


It's About Damn Time To Live It Up

by LaughingStones, roachpatrol



Series: Space Shenanigans [2]
Category: Motorcity
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Collars, Exhibitionism, Light BDSM, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Polyamory, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, slave play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: Mike's never been on a mission that involved wearing glitter before. Or shorts this tiny. On the upside, Julie and Chuck seem happy about it.





	It's About Damn Time To Live It Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hot and dangerous  
> If you're one of us, then roll with us...

“Kapulsky,” Julie says, “Of Kapulsky Enterprises.” 

“I haven’t heard of you,” the checkpoint guard says. 

Julie sneers. “You wouldn’t have,” she says. “We’re exclusive.”

She hands a matte black identity card over, the glossy cat’s head shining gold, and it scans with a bright little _meow!_ and an animated wink. The checkpoint guard pales at what pops up on his screen, and hands the card back much more carefully than he took it. 

“My apologies, Miss Kapulsky—” 

“ _Madam,_ ” Julie snaps, showing her teeth. 

“Madam! Madam Kapulsky. You’re cleared.”

Julie gives him a final, lingering look of disgust, and strides through the cordon, her chin held very high. 

The party’s already going when she arrives, fashionably late, and few guests so much as eye her as she sweeps by. Their guards look her over with no more than professional curiosity, and her own guard nods back to them, politely warning. Julie’s not trailing the biggest bruiser in a suit around after herself, but there’s something about the absolute blankness of his face— and the way his shoulders fill out a suit— that does just fine to put casual observers on notice. 

Julie does a lazy circuit of the party space, an airy, ostentatious dome open to the colorful vista of a huge nebula, bright with baby stars. Various filters swirl over the inner surface of the dome, showing the nebula in true color, false, infrareds, ultraviolet, x-ray. It’d be awe-inspiring if it weren’t so gaudy. 

After she’s taken a tour, seeing for herself where the musicians are, the VIPs, the assorted social parasites, the various recreational zones, she rewards herself with a trip to the lavish buffet table. The spread is genuinely excellent, and Julie enjoys filling a small plate with as expensive a selection of treats as possible. 

“Here,” she says to her pet, and takes a small chocolate confection from the plate with her fingers, holds it up for him. “You’re behaving yourself so far.” 

The pet looks from her fingers to her face, and licks his lips a little incredulously. 

“It’s a treat,” she says. 

He hesitates, uncertainly, then leans forward and takes it very carefully. She pats his jaw. 

“Good boy,” she says, and he shivers at the praise, smiling shyly before darting a nervous look all around the very public venue, painfully self-conscious. She feeds him another few treats, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes, focusing only on her, before someone makes a bitchy _ahem_ noise from behind her and her pet goes tense all over again, straining at the very edges of his conditioning. 

“What,” Julie says flatly, turning around. Ms Sniffs is tall, gorgeous, and probably sour enough to pickle milk. 

“Who are you?” she demands, her nose wrinkled. “And just _what_ are you wearing?” 

“It’s the very latest,” Julie says, and looks Sniffs scathingly up and down. “Not that someone in _neutrals_ could tell. Seriously, grey? What is this, the dark ages? Did you weave all that yourself in between harvesting your crops and yelling at your goats?” 

Someone who had hovered just close enough to eavesdrop stifles a titter. Julie’s adversary goes red with anger. 

“At least I’m not here with a forged pass and a walking sex toy!” she snaps. 

“Well, maybe you should be,” Julie says, and eats one of her bon-bons. “You could stand to lighten up. Sell some of your goats.”

While Ms Sniffs sputters, another girl— shorter, blonder, in muted slate greens— elbows her way in. “Wait,” she says brightly. “Since when are neutrals out? _Galactic Style_ says this season’s all about tasteful restraint—” 

“ _Galactic Style_ spends ten minutes pulling nouns out of a hat, all season on the adverbs, and exactly zero seconds on getting in touch with reality,” Julie says. “If they told me it was raining I’d get out my sunscreen. If they say it’s about restraint, _I_ say flaunt it if you’ve got it. And _I’ve_ got it.” 

“You’ve got brain damage,” Sniffs says. 

“Go yell at your goats some more,” Julie says. “Jealousy’s a bad look on anyone.” 

Short and blonde giggles and loops her arm through Julie’s. “Oh, I _like_ you. Come on over to the lounge and meet some of my people. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, before Ms Sniffs started in on my wardrobe,” Julie says, following her. “Apparently insulting people right away is the very latest in manners, someone should tell _Galactic Style_. I’m Madam Julie Kapulsky, of Kapulsky Enterprises.” 

“I haven’t heard of you.” 

“We’re very exclusive,” Julie says. “And you are?”

“Vice-Executive Raquel, of Isatis Industries,” she says. “I like your toy. Does he have a name?”

“Mike,” Julie says, and feels her pet’s attention concentrate back on her again. He moves a half-step closer to her, and she lets her arm swing back and brush his, just for a moment. 

“Mike,” repeats her new friend. “Aren’t you a handsome one!” 

Julie looks up over her shoulder, amused at the wide-eyed, flustered self-consciousness on her pet’s face, the way he looks at her pleadingly for help. 

“He’s not used to public play,” she says. “But I think he’s been doing very well so far.”

“Ooh. First time out?”

“Yes. Would you like to feed him a treat?”

Raquel giggles and takes a confection from Julie’s plate. “These really are delicious,” she says. “I almost want to eat them all myself. But here you go!” 

Julie’s pet has distinctly flushed cheeks as he lowers his head and carefully— _very_ carefully— eats the chocolate out of the girl’s palm. 

“Good boy,” Julie says warmly, and he shivers all over, his eyelashes fluttering closed. 

“He _is_ pretty. Is that a command collar? Or does it just look like one?” 

“Oh, it’s real. They’re very difficult to get, but absolutely worth the effort when you’ve got a more challenging project on your hands like Mike, here.”

“Challenging?” Raquel asks. “This sweet looking thing?”

“He was sour enough at the start,” Julie says. “He was a rough bit of work from a delinquent-class retainer. Just goes to show what a little time and effort can do for a boy, doesn’t it?”

“Oh!” Raquel’s eyes widen. “So… the collar was originally for your own safety? Or for… reprogramming?”

Julie snorts dismissively. “Well, the disciplinary system’s no better than torture, really, it’s completely pointless for training up real _companions_. But the rewards system is second to none, which is much better for getting real results. And my _sweet_ boy deserves the very _best_ positive reinforcement he can get. Don’t you, pet?”

Mike licks his lips, hesitantly, and nods. Julie pats his cheek, smiling, and he smiles tentatively back.

“Ooh,” Raquel says, looking fascinated.

Julie reaches up to rub a thumb over Mike’s lower lip and he catches his breath, wide eyes flickering from her face to Raquel’s and quickly down to the floor.

“He’s still so shy,” Julie says, mock-regretful. “It’s cute, but I’m hoping to get him loosened up by the end of tonight. You’ll see what a real command collar’s worth, I’m sure.”

Raquel giggles again. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that at all,” she says. “Or if you need any help—”

“Very kind of you, but I’m a bit exclusive with my personal possessions,” Julie says. She trails her hand down her pet’s jaw, his throat, the tense muscles of his chest under the gauzy shirt. “I like having this boy all to myself. You understand.”

“With a pet like that? Of course,” Raquel says, and fans her blushing face exaggeratedly. “We’re not just going to be admiring your _hardware_ tonight!” 

Julie grins at her. “I did say _If you’ve got it, flaunt it_ , didn’t I?”

“You’re my new best friend,” Raquel says. “Just let me keep my front row seat!”

Julie laughs. 

*

It takes effort for Mike to keep his eyes on Julie, focusing on her like a pet should as the blonde girl pulls her along, chatting amiably. He follows at Julie’s heels, aware of Chuck ghosting along a step behind, blank-faced and dangerous in his sleek suit. Raquel’s guard follows on Mike’s other side, just an edge of movement in his peripheral vision, and only the knowledge that Chuck could put the guy on the floor keeps Mike less tense than a drawn wire. He can't look over, can't look like he's watching the guards, he's supposed to be a pet. Maybe once he was a fighter, but now he's a non-combatant, collared and tamed and safe.

It'd be better if he could pass for a lifelong civilian, but this stupid clingy shirt leaves his arms bare, and the makeup Julie put on his face doesn't hide anything, so he's got plenty of scars on display. He misses his jacket.

He was pretty sure in the first place that it wasn't fair for Chuck and Julie to both look amazing—Chuck filling out that suit like it's his job, Julie in a floaty dress that Dutch did amazing things to with fabric paint—while Mike is stuck in these tiny shorts and a weird, gauzy sleeveless shirt. Dutch and the others just snorted at him when he complained about it, though. Mike doesn't think pets are supposed to look ridiculous, but apparently he doesn't know what he's talking about.

In the lounge, Raquel introduces Julie around to a group of girls who share the same air of certainty that Julie’s putting off right now, the feeling that anything they want, they're going to get, and they have a right to have it. Mike doesn't catch all their names, but it's not like he's going to be chatting with any of them. 

Judging by the number of bored men and women in suits standing behind chairs or against the walls, all of the girls have guards. Several of them also have pets, sitting on cushions beside their chairs, and Mike's stomach twists uncertainly as he looks at them. None of them are wearing a control collar like he is, just lots of fancy jewelry, and they’re all... sleek, and pretty, and happy-looking, obviously pampered and treasured and under contract, not like him. He feels like an obvious pretender, like at any minute one of these confident girls or beautiful pets is going to stand up and say, “What’s _he_ playing at?”

Julie takes a chair next to Raquel, Chuck leaning back quietly against the wall behind her as she waves Mike to the big, fluffy pillow beside her seat. She smiles at him as he sits down on it, and despite the unease that has him strung taut, he finds himself smiling back, relaxing a little.

“Good boy,” Julie says, and Mike catches his breath as the collar’s reward module sends a wave of pleasure through him.

“Oh my,” Raquel says. “It's hard to believe he was a bad boy to start with, just look at those big eyes!”

“He really is well suited to be on someone's arm,” Julie agrees. “He just needed a firm hand. Good training is a wonderful thing.”

“Is that a Deluxian collar?” one of the other girls asks, and Mike kind of stops paying attention as Julie mentions his origins and goes into detail about the difficulties of getting hold of goods from Deluxe these days. The other girls make polite remarks and the conversation goes into politics, what groups benefit from the Selantran miners’ rebellion and who’s behind the sanctions on Tunais. Julie knows what she's talking about, but she lets the others do most of the arguing, listening with apparent interest while she strokes Mike’s hair.

After a while it's impossible not to relax, despite the discomfort of the situation. Weird clothes, the collar around his neck and the feeling of being on display to unfriendly eyes can't hold up against Julie’s hand in his hair, patting and scritching just the way he likes it. She's got this. She's got him. It's safe, everything's okay.

At a break in the conversation, the girl with masses of black curls—Basia, Mike thinks her name was—leans over to smile at Julie. “You know, I wasn't sure about your pet at first—all those scars, yeah? But he really is lovely.” She turns her smile on Mike. “Raquel is right, I love those eyes. So expressive. What did you say his name is?”

“Tell her your name,” Julie says, tugging gently on his hair, and Mike swallows.

“Mike,” he says, meeting Basia’s interested gaze, and then sways a little, hands clenching on his thighs and eyes closing, as the collar rewards him for the obedience.

“Ooh!” Basia says. “Is that conditioning, or—?”

“That's positive reinforcement from the collar,” Julie explains.

“He's so responsive!” Raquel says in delight.

“Oh,” Julie says with the edge of a smirk, “you haven't seen him be _responsive_ yet.”

Basia grins, catches Raquel’s eye and looks around at the other girls. “I'm pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd love to see it.”

Wide-eyed, Mike looks around the room. The guards still look bored. Two of the pets, one male and one female, are watching him curiously, and the third one has his head in his mistress’s lap, his face hidden. A couple of the other girls just look politely interested, but the rest are actually intrigued, leaning forward with bright eyes, and that's just weird, Mike is _not_ that interesting, even with kinky games taken into account.

He glances back at Chuck for support, expecting a concealed smirk or maybe a nervous look, and it's a jolt to see that utterly calm, blank expression. Right, he locked his emotions down for this mission. Mike forgot.

Silently pleading, Mike looks up at Julie and she gives him a warm smile. “Still shy,” she sighs. “Let's see what we can do about that.”

She picks a bite-sized sandwich off her plate and holds it out to him, murmurs, “Good boy,” when he eats it. It's delicious, savory and crisp, not like anything they normally get on the ship, and the reward from the collar has him biting back a moan. Julie feeds him another couple of nibbles, praising him after each one until he's panting, completely hard in his too-small shorts and almost not sure he cares anymore how many people are watching.

“You're being so good,” she says, eyes on his, and a breath of a groan makes it out of him this time. “You don't have anything to worry about, handsome, I'll take care of you.”

He relaxes further at the reminder. He trusts her, she's got his back, Julie will look after him. It's okay, he's okay.

She brushes fingertips down his cheek and he turns his head, nuzzles into her hand.

“Well, that's just adorable,” says the girl with the female pet, looking charmed. Her name was Mala, or something like that.

“His training’s been excellent, if he was _really_ so bad before you got him,” Raquel says. “He's so sweet and biddable now!”

“Oh, he was bad,” Julie says, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “According to the charges, he was a pirate. Robbery, smuggling, he got up to all kinds of things. Now he's my good boy, aren't you?”

Mike gasps and nods.

“God, he's gorgeous,” someone murmurs, and Mike drops his head, shivering as much from the steady stream of unexpected approval as from the collar’s continued input.

“Come up here,” Julie says, and Mike rises up on his knees, moaning softly as the collar responds. Smiling at him, Julie runs a finger across his lips, making him shiver. Then she does it again, a delicate touch slipping back and forth, sending sensation through him, lighting up his nerves with pleasure until he can't hold back a whimper.

Putting her hand in his hair instead as he gasps for breath, Julie smiles triumphantly around the room. “A little more responsive now, huh?”

“That’s _amazing_ ,” someone says, and there’s a rising murmur of agreement— Mike shivers and swallows as people call him _fantastic, so pretty, look at his face chest arms that jaw those eyes,_ Julie’s hand in his hair, possessive. 

“Yeah, I’m very proud of him,” she says, smiling down at him, and he can’t help moaning. He wants— that— he’s wanted it probably too long and too much, and he knows he’s kind of losing track of what’s an act and what’s not but it’s too hard to think straight, like this. His dick’s aching in his stupid, tight little shorts, leaking, and rocking his hips against nothing isn’t getting him anything like enough friction. 

“Come here,” Julie says again, “Come on, that’s a good pet,” and he goes with her guiding hand, letting her press his face against her hip, nuzzle against the satin and gauze and breathe in the smell of fabric paint and— oh, god, _her,_ he can smell her, perfume and under that she’s wet. He whimpers again, head spinning, practically _scrambling_ as the collar rewards him yet again for compliance. He presses the heel of his hand to his desperately hard dick and grinds and it’s _good,_ it’s so good, the collar rewards him for this too, he forgot that was going to be rewarded, touching himself. 

“Good boy,” Julie murmurs, and traces one of his ears with a delicate finger. “You’re doing just what you’re supposed to, showing off like this. Making everyone so jealous of me. Why don’t you take that out so you don’t make a mess of your nice new outfit?”

Eyes closed tightly even though he’s still got his face hidden in her skirt, he fumbles his shorts down and groans helplessly when he can wrap his hand around his hard-on, skin to skin, spread the precome down his shaft. The collar rewards him for doing what he’s told and for touching himself and for being a good boy and it doesn’t take more than a couple strokes, each one echoing and redoubling the pleasure jolting down his spine, before he’s coming with a rough cry. 

“Good boy,” Julie repeats, and he shudders dizzily with the aftershocks. The pleasure of the reward is just the same after he’s come as before, and he realizes, fuzzily and way too late, that she could probably keep him hard the whole evening, or the collar could.

“Oh, Julie, he's beautiful.” Basia sounds a little breathless. “Are you _sure_ you don't want to share?” she adds, laughing.

Mike pulls back enough to look up at Julie and she smiles at him, slightly flushed and looking pleased. “Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, and hands him a tissue to clean up with. “I keep my favorite toys all to myself.”

Basia laughs again. “With him I can understand the impulse!”

“And besides,” Julie adds, “he would pout. He's not nearly as cute when he's sulky.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Raquel says, grinning. “I think he'd be cute no matter what.”

“He is very good at it,” Julie agrees, patting him as he settles down beside her, clean and tucked away again.

“Hmm,” says the girl next to Basia with a lazy smile. She clearly doesn't care what _Galactic Style_ has to say, because her green and silver dress is so shiny it catches the light every time she moves. “I bet it's not the only thing he's good at.”

Julie grins at her. “Honestly it'd be easier to tell you what he's _not_ good at, the list is much shorter.”

“For instance?” Mala says, stroking her own pet's bare back.

Julie tilts her head and Mike slides her a sideways look. “Oh,” she says, smirking at him, “for instance, he doesn't multitask very well. He’s too easily distracted. The sensitivity has some drawbacks, you see—he can't even remember how to kiss if he's getting close to coming.”

Mike drops his head, face hot. He kind of thought she was going to make some stuff up, not list his actual shortcomings. That feels a little… not great.

“It means he's easily overwhelmed,” Julie says, almost purring, and Basia laughs.

“That doesn't sound much like a drawback,” she says. “It sounds more like you being smug.”

“Mmmaybe,” Julie says. “But can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” Raquel sighs.

“It doesn't look like he's used to performing in public,” says the girl in the shiny dress.

“No, this is his first time out,” Raquel says, with a glance at Julie, who nods confirmation.

“But you know,” Basia says, “I think I like him better this way. He's obviously not practiced, not, you know, playing it up or anything, he's entirely natural. It's pretty hot.”

“Can I feed him another treat?” Raquel says, and Julie graciously nods, holding out her plate.

Raquel picks a gold-spattered chocolate, holds it out to him in her fingertips and he takes it, still bewildered by all the positive attention. The treat is delicious, gooey in the middle, something spicy in with the sweet.

“Good boy!” she chirps, and Mike blinks and then smiles shyly. The collar won't respond to her voice, but it's still nice to hear the approval, even if it's also confusing. There's no reason for them all to like him so much, it doesn't make sense.

“God, you're too cute,” Raquel tells him, and the look he gives her is probably more dubious than is polite, but she just laughs.

Julie runs a hand through his hair and feeds him more treats as the conversation meanders idly on, but she perks up when one of the girls mentions something about a more durable polymer and suddenly they're off discussing technical specs. Mike drops his head against Julie’s thigh and drifts for a while, eyes closed, relaxed as she keeps patting him. 

Eventually he rouses to find that Mala’s pet is going to dance. Basia volunteers to be given a lap dance, grinning, someone cues up some music, and the woman starts to move. Mike is pretty sure she's good, not that he's any judge; graceful and flexible and moving with the beat, bending over backwards and arching back upright. She moves her hips like she's grinding against an invisible partner, her hands sliding over her body as if to invite other touches, and Mike has to look away, cheeks hot, before she even gets to the lap dance part.

Julie tangles a hand in his hair and tugs just hard enough to make his breath catch. “Why aren't you watching, silly?” she says under the music.

Mike isn't allowed to huff or glare at her, he's supposed to be well trained. He gives her a reluctant sidelong look instead and she smiles indulgently. Pulling him up on his knees by the hair, she leans in to murmur in his ear.

“Your hangups are cute, cowboy.”

He stares at her in shock, a jolt of heat going through him. She just broke character. She's relaxed and confident enough to do that, and—it feels like it shifts everything, like this is suddenly a game between them, a joke they're sharing instead of an undercover mission. He smiles breathlessly back at her and she laughs softly.

“Would you like to watch, really?” she murmurs, and he bites his lip, shrugs and nods at the same time. Sure, it's sexy, he'd watch it if he was on his own, but he feels guilty with her and Chuck right here.

Reminded, he glances back at Chuck to see what he thinks of the dance. Chuck is watching the room impassively, glancing at the dancer only as often as he glances at the other guests, even though she’s just his type and he’d normally be riveted.

Right. Chuck’s not going to be interested in anything sexy right now. Mike knew that, it just keeps slipping his mind somehow.

Julie strokes his hair to reclaim his attention. “All right then. Since you want to anyway, watch for me,” she breathes.

Dang it, that's not playing fair, but Julie doesn't bother with fair, she plays to win. Mike turns back to watch the ongoing lap dance and groans under his breath as the collar rewards him. It doesn't stop, either, it was an open-ended order and so the reward keeps going as he keeps watching, one pulse of pleasure after another.

Basia’s brown cheeks are flushed by the time her lap dance is over, but Mike is probably breathing harder than the dancer, hands clenched on his thighs. Julie murmurs, “Good boy,” before joining in as everyone compliments Mala on her pet’s talent. Mike just manages to choke off a whimper.

Looking pleased, Mala pulls her pet onto her lap, kissing her neck.

“Well,” says a girl with massive glittery earrings, “if we're showing off talents, my boy's up next.”

The pet sitting beside her stands and begins to sing. Mike is even less of a judge of music than he is of dance, but it sounds very pretty, even if he's not in any condition to appreciate it right now.

Mala’s pet is squirming on her mistress’s lap, moaning softly at whatever Mala’s doing under the dancer’s skirts, and after a minute Mala quietly pulls her up and slips out of the room, one hand low and possessive on her back. Mike wouldn't really notice except that Julie makes a quiet thoughtful noise, then gestures Chuck over. She breathes something in his ear, her hand over her mouth, eyes narrow, and he murmurs something back to her, just as inaudible. Then he stands up, steps smartly back, and taps two fingers to his other palm, bringing up a small, heavily encrypted screen and starting to type. _Dutch. Texas._

“Is...” Mike licks his lips, hesitant to speak up but worried, now, “is everything—”

“Everything’s fine, pet,” Julie cuts over him, and ruffles his hair.

He isn't sure what she's thinking, but she looks down at him and smiles and he has to swallow hard. Whatever it is, he's probably not going to be ready for it. That’s her _taking care of business_ smile, and it usually involves a body count. 

Then Julie leans over and murmurs, “Listen to the singer.” Mike gives Julie a reproachful look, gasping as quietly as he can, and she grins cheerfully back. He can disobey this one, if he tries, but the other pet is right there and his voice _is_ very pretty, even if it’s just some frilly love song. Each time Mike’s attention is caught again he gets that irresistible jolt of pleasure down his spine, so good he doesn’t even _want_ to disobey, just do as he’s told until his whole world is this insipidly soft, sweet love song and the pleasure broadening out from a jolt to an endless, overwhelming thrum.

Wanting a witness to how unfair Julie’s being, he looks back at Chuck again, squirming with frustration. Chuck just tilts his head slightly at Mike, blank-faced. ...Right, he's not really registering things like ‘unfair’ right now. The sinking feeling in Mike's chest is dumb, it's not like Mike’s actually all that annoyed at Julie or even needs the backup, but he's used to Chuck being there for a snort or a sympathetic eye roll, even in the middle of the most serious kinds of business, firefights and hostage negotiations and hull breaches. Like this, he's kind of… not exactly there. Inaccessible. It's more upsetting than Mike remembered from the last time Chuck used this protocol, and he looks away. Then he hears the song again and his breath catches at the next pulse of pleasure, pulling all his attention back into his body, and he can't think about it anymore.

By the end of the song, Mike is panting harshly, barely in control of his need for relief, his hands fisted in the fabric of the pillow under him and his hips rocking restlessly against nothing as he shifts and shivers in place. In the applause that follows, Julie leans over and says quietly to Raquel, “So where can a girl go for some privacy, in this fancy fishbowl?”

Mike buries his face in her hip as Raquel giggles and lets her know _all about_ the private rooms along a back hall. Julie thanks her and pats Mike on the back of his neck, runs her thumb over his collar, getting his complete attention.

“Stand up, pet,” she says.

Setting his teeth, Mike drags himself to his feet and sways as the pleasure hits him. He can't suppress a moan.

Julie leans back in her chair and taps a finger against her chin. “What do you think, handsome, should I keep playing with you, drag this out all night? You look like you’re having an awfully good time.”

“He _looks_ like an awfully good time,” Raquel giggles. Julie just smirks and nods, hands spread as if conceding a point. 

Mike whines at the back of his throat, closes his eyes for a minute, achingly aware of how many people are looking at them, at _him_ , watching how he behaves. His voice comes out hoarse when he says, “Whatever you want. Ma’am.”

“And if I told you to sit down again?” she says. 

Mike can’t help it. He whimpers. 

Julie smiles and shakes her head. “How am I supposed to resist that face?” she says to Raquel, getting to her feet. “I think I’m going to take this boy out for a walk, but save my seat, okay? I’m having a good time here myself.”

“You could always leave him in it while _you_ go out,” Raquel says brightly. “We'd take excellent care of him.”

“Absolutely,” Basia chimes in, grinning. “We'd keep him in peak condition.”

“Much as I appreciate the offer, ladies,” Julie smirks, “it's not happening.”

“I had to try,” Raquel sighs, and Julie gives her an ironic nod and leads Mike out of the room, Chuck falling in behind.

Mike follows her eagerly enough, adjusting himself to be a little less painful in his stupid shorts as soon as they’re in a private hallway, while Julie takes the opportunity to bring up her own encrypted set of screens and start typing even faster than Chuck, but then she starts walking as she types instead of putting the screens away, and that private hallway leads to another private hallway, and then another one. Julie’s stride picks up a brisk, businesslike air, not the smug _Look At Me_ stroll she was doing earlier, and Mike’s heart finishes sinking. Something’s gone wrong with the mission and Julie’s not taking him off for sex, even though she got him all worked up for it, even though he’s _still_ worked up for it. 

He glances back at Chuck for confirmation, and Chuck just nods at him, terse and silent, like a guy who isn’t walking around with probably the worst boner of his life stuffed into definitely the worst shorts in the galaxy. 

“ _Julie_ ,” Mike hisses. “ _Jules! What’s—”_

“Shh,” she goes, not enough of an order to trip his collar but pretty clear. Mike clenches his fists in frustration and keeps following her, through one unmarked door and down another hallway, all of which are totally private and would be _super fine_ to make out in except Texas and Dutch messed something up and now Julie’s gotta bail everyone out again, hopefully before Mike’s dick dies of exploding or something. 

“Chuck,” Julie says. “Are we close?”

Chuck brings up a blue screen and checks some things, then says, “Two doors down, on the left, Dutch says.”

Julie nods and uses her fancy identity card to get them through a sliding lock. There’s a bank of monitors and a very startled looking old guy in some kind of security uniform, who sits up so fast he slops coffee on himself. 

“Hey!” he says. “You can’t be in here!” 

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Julie says. “I thought there were private rooms! Oh no, your shirt!”

“This isn’t— uh—” The old guy tries to bat Julie away as she hovers and fusses over his coffee stained shirt, tipping the rest of the cup over. “—Ma’am! You— that’s— it’s okay, just—”

“No, I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry, your poor outfit! Oh no! This is the worst! Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” 

This goes on for awhile, to Mike’s amusement, while Chuck sidles around behind the guy and starts sneakily splicing his native lines into and through the monitoring hardware. When the guy looks like he’s gonna notice something, Mike wades into the fray himself, whining, “Mistress, I thought you were gonna play with _me_ ,” and pawing up Julie’s skirts, which makes the old guy turn a hilarious shade of pink and stand up fast. 

“Now, you two need to clear out of here,” he says sternly. 

“But I said I was sorry!” Julie wails, and Mike has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“I’m not mad, ma’am, it’s okay. This just isn’t the, uh, the private rooms you were looking for.”

“But we walked for so long! Are you _sure?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ ma’am. I can get security to escort you—”

“Like we’re _criminals?_ We didn’t do anything wrong! We were _told_ this was where we were _supposed_ to go to be _alone_ and we didn’t know _you’d_ be here _and I SAID I was SORRY—”_

This goes on for another while, until Chuck flashes them a quick thumbs-up and Julie is finally persuaded that the security guy is not going to leave them alone to have sex in whatever room they’ve found themselves because he needs this room to do his job and can’t just get another job somewhere else.

“Well, if you’re really, _really_ sure,” Julie says dubiously. “I guess we’ll just go back to the party. I don’t think I even want to play anymore.”

Mike doesn’t have to fake a look of deep disappointment, at that. 

“Aw, don’t be sad, pet, we’ll have lots and lots of fun some other time,” Julie says. “This mean man only ruined a _little_ bit of our night.”

“Glad to hear it,” the security guard growls, and finally manages to shoo Julie out of the room. Chuck slips after her with that strange, calm grace he only gets when completely zoned out, and Mike stumbles after both of them, giddy and frustrated and worried all at once. The triumphant grin Julie shoots him flattens all his feelings into _desperate_ , though, and he catches her slim waist without thinking, pulls her close and kisses her. 

She laughs, throwing her arms around his shoulders, and it only takes one step to have her pressed against the hallway wall, to _grind_ and moan against her soft mouth, feel the way she gasps too, laugh cutting off as she feels how much he _needs_ her—

“On second thought,” she says, a little unsteadily, “I think we should find those private rooms after all, pet.”

“ _Please_ ,” he says, and feels her shiver.

*

The third door Julie tries in the correct back hallway proves to be unlocked and empty, and she ushers her boys in and locks the door after them.

Mike was pretty to start with, nicely made up with eyeliner and glitter and all, but he looks even more amazing like this, dark-eyed and flushed, chest heaving as he pants, all his focus narrowed down to his own desire. His tiny shorts are ridiculously tight in front and he’s gone clumsy with need and he’s totally lost mission focus and Julie _wants_ him.

First things first, though. She holds him back with a hand on his chest, looks to Chuck. Her guard glances around the room, eyes lighting up inhuman blue as he scans the walls, the chairs and bed, everything. After a moment he shakes his head.

“It’s clean in here, no interference. Dutch reports the through line is holding steady.”

“Good,” Julie says, and tugs Mike’s head down to kiss him hard. Moaning into it, he kisses back desperately, hands on her back pulling her closer.

She pulls back eventually, breathing hard. “What do you want?” she says, because she gets to call the shots the whole rest of the night—because he agreed to it, half of this was his and Chuck’s idea in the first place, and she has no reason to feel guilty about any of it—he should at least get a real say right now.

He gives her a dazed look with an exasperated edge. “To come? Julie, _please,_ don’t drag this out! I’m _dying_.” 

She refuses to wince, looks him in the eye instead. “I want to fuck you stupid. You good with that?”

He flicks a look at Chuck and away again. She looks herself, but Chuck is just watching them, face peacefully blank, eyes a little distant.

“Yeah,” Mike says, hoarse again. “Sounds like a plan.”

He goes for her again but it’s easy— easier than it should be, probably— to grab his hands and tow him over to the bed. There’s a ridiculous little basket on the pillows, full of rich-people condoms and lube and pills and stuff, all ostentatiously wrapped in gold foil and bows. It takes a minute to get ready, both of them giggling and fumbling and flicking foil balls at each other, but then they're both mostly naked and Julie isn't wasting any more time, the last couple hours have been plenty of foreplay, thanks. She gets Mike on his back, straddles him and sinks down slow, moaning a little and watching the way his face goes soft and open in bliss.

She tries not to think about if she was really his mistress and he was really her pet: it's a sexy fantasy and a fun game to play, but god, the things he lets her and Chuck do to him are even better, and all real. Even if he’s gorgeous like this, wound up too far to care about anything but sensation, anything but _her_. Simplified into something sweet and self-indulgent...

“Touch me,” she says, and he starts to run his hands up her sides—then arches, eyes widening as the collar kicks in.

“ _Ahh!_ Jules, you—that's cheating!”

“You know I play to win, hot stuff,” she says, breathless as she moves on him. “Anyway, you don't have to obey while we're in here. If you don't like it you can just stop.”

“It makes—you happy, though,” he says, voice unsteady. His hands stubbornly move across her skin, even as it makes his eyelashes flutter and his hips buck. “I like… making you happy.”

Julie catches her breath, grinding down for a few seconds before starting to ride him again. “I like it when you feel so good you can't take it anymore,” she says. “I like making you feel that way. But you have to like it, it's no good if you're not having fun, okay?”

He cups her breasts, gasping, brushes his thumbs across her nipples, and she moans and pinches his in retaliation. Mike jolts, groaning loud. Running a hand down her belly, he gets his thumb on her clit and rubs in little circles, just light enough to coax instead of overwhelming.

Julie throws her head back, moving faster. “ _God_. Mike—”

“I—I am, ‘s’fun, good, I just—” He huffs, grimaces a little, trying to focus. “I can't multitask, you ss-aah, ah—said— I can't— _mm_ —make it good for you if I'm too—distracted.”

“God, babe, like I care. You have no idea how hot you are when you're that distracted,” Julie says, groaning. “When you don’t care about anything but, but yourself, what we’re doing to you— it’s gorgeous.”

“Agreed,” Chuck says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, careful not to rumple his suit. “According to a med scan, the heart rates of most of the people in that room spiked when Julie was showing you off, even before you came. Pupils dilated, lots of signs of arousal. Pretty much everyone agrees you're hot, bro.”

Mike laughs a little, glancing over at him with a look that's hard to interpret—hope and uncertainty, maybe. Chuck’s face is still blank, and his voice is almost toneless, but he reaches out and takes Mike’s free hand, thumb rubbing over his knuckles, and Mike’s smile brightens.

“Probably all the glitter,” he says breathlessly. “You know how much— _ah_ —people like, mm, shiny things.”

“Gotta be,” Julie pants, moving sharp and quick now. “Can't be all the— _mmh_ —muscle on display, or that—pretty face of yours…”

“Well, it definitely can't be—these stupid shorts,” Mike says.

Julie is almost too distracted to laugh. So close—she wants— “Mike, come on, _fuck_ me,” she says, and Mike’s hips buck up as he cries out. His hand jerks, thumb pressing almost too hard against her, but it's good, she doesn't care, she's coming, sharp and rough and breathless.

Mike keeps moving under her, moaning louder and louder as the collar keeps rewarding him until a minute later he finds his own climax, jerking and shuddering as he comes, still determinedly thrusting up into her.

“Order withdrawn,” she murmurs as he slowly stills, and he shivers all over and goes limp. Julie rises up enough to pull free, then flops over half on top of him.

“There's an advantage to this emotion-blocking thing,” Chuck says thoughtfully. “If I didn't have it on, my suit would be a mess right now.”

“If you didn't have it on,” Julie can't help pointing out, “you'd be naked with us right now.”

“Mm.” Chuck considers this and shrugs. “Point.”

“God,” Mike sighs. “Really wish you didn't, buddy.”

Chuck runs a hand through Mike's hair and Julie watches his eyelashes flutter. “I know, Mikey,” Chuck says calmly. “But it's better this way. Otherwise I'm not sure I could focus enough to hack these security systems for Dutch and Texas while you guys are playing sex games right in front of me. I definitely couldn't pull off the professional bodyguard look while I was going nuts just watching you.”

“Last time you used this protocol it was pretty rough on you, though,” Mike says in a low voice.

“I'm not the only one that mission was rough on,” Chuck observes, and Mike's lips twist like it's not fair to bring that up. Hypocrite. “Anyway, this is totally different,” Chuck goes on. “Like I told you it'd be. Much lower risk of being shot, you're shy but not obviously distressed, Julie’s having fun, and nobody around wants you to suffer. This is fine, there's not much negative feeling building up behind the block at all. I'm fine.”

Mike looks somewhat reassured, if not entirely convinced. He shifts out from under Julie and goes to get rid of the condom, then comes back and wraps an arm around her again.

“How about you, cowboy?” she asks. “You look gorgeous out there, but I can't tell if you're still okay with this.”

His face is flushed from the sex, but by the way his eyes shift away she thinks he’s blushing more. “I didn't expect—you keep acting like I'm… some kind of prize. Something really special. And I'd think the other people would notice it's—I'm not, but… You've got them all convinced somehow.”

“You like it,” she says softly, and he nods, eyes on the ceiling. “Good. I want them all to be clear that my toy’s better than theirs, that it’s— you’re— _quality_. You’re the hottest, and sweetest, and most fun... What _I’ve_ got is what everyone wants but only _I_ can have.”

He's giving her an odd look, part puzzled and part amused, and she feels a little embarrassed, to have had to be so honest about herself.

“You're really enjoying this,” he says slowly. “Last time you hated pretending you owned me, but this time—”

“It's completely different!” she says, stomach going tight. “I had to treat you like… like a _slave_ , not a prize! It was all about spite and vengeance and—making you do things _because_ you didn't want to, because that asshole hated you, and it was _wrong!_ You weren’t— you were supposed to be _broken_ , junked, I hated it. But tonight I can make you feel good, and show off how incredible you are, how special, and no one's going to want to _hurt_ you.” Pausing, she bites her lip. Of course he's comparing it to the last time, they all are—but if he's really so uncertain what the difference is— 

“Hey, no,” he says, bending his neck to kiss her cheek. “Jules, I didn't mean—you're right, it's not the same at all. I guess I'm just… _confused_ that it's so different. I mean, I knew it wouldn't be such a big deal without that jerk around, but…”

He trails off, avoiding her eyes again, olive cheeks still rosy, and she smiles slowly. “You didn't expect to like it so much,” she suggests, and the clench in her middle gives way when he nods sheepishly.

“To be treated like... I’m... uh, attractive? It’s... nice.”

Julie snorts, grinning at him, but before she can answer, Chuck’s already saying, “Surprise, Mikey; objectively speaking, you _are_ attractive. We already knew that. You're the only one who's surprised every time.”

Mike blinks at him, mouth open. Julie can't tell if it's because of what he said or the weirdness of him saying it in that flattened tone of voice, all blank and calm.

“Exactly,” Julie says. “That part isn't an act. You're hot stuff, and I am smug as hell to get to show you off.” She leans forward and kisses him, warm and lingering. “It’s okay to want to be _wanted_ , Mike.”

He takes a sharp breath at that and turns his face away— looking to Chuck, his eyes wide. Chuck just looks back at him and nods, firmly. 

“I... I do,” Mike says, very quietly. His face is flushed all over. 

“And we do,”Julie says. “When you show off in a firefight—”

“Or pilot like a maniac,” Chuck says. 

“Or how you always pop your jacket collars and wear your shirts _really_ tight—”

“That one smile,” Chuck says, and Julie laughs. 

“Yeah, that smile,” she says. “Phew!”

Mike’s still blushing all over, but he gives them a fair impression of _that smile,_ a reckless, inviting grin while he peers up through his tousled bangs. Julie squeals in delight and kisses him again, a lot more warmly and thoroughly this time. They’re both flushed by the end, Julie starting to squirm a little as she heats back up. 

“God, if you walked out of here and gave the girls _that_ ,” she murmurs, “they’d be bidding over you. I could sell your contract for enough to buy this whole gaudy party station. I could buy my own _moon_.”

Mike just hums, pleased with himself, and kisses along her throat. 

“I won’t, though, I’ll— aah, Mike, I’m— never— you’re mine—” she breaks off with a squeak as his mouth finds one of her breasts, fastens over a nipple. He rolls her over and palms her other breast, pinches. She groans, and he groans almost as loud, which puzzles her for a moment.

“You didn't withdraw the order to touch you,” Chuck points out.

Mike lifts his head, panting, eyes dark, and Julie smiles slowly. “Fancy that,” she purrs. “I think maybe I'll leave that one for a while longer.”

“ _Nnh_ ,” Mike says, and nips her collarbone. “God. Such a cheater,” he mumbles against her skin, and goes back to nuzzling her breasts.

She enjoys that for a while before nudging him down between her legs, and then it doesn't take very long until they're both shaking. He keeps moaning as the collar rewards him over and over again, and the desperate sounds he makes send waves of hot satisfaction through her.

She's trembling on the edge, hands clawing at the bedspread, when she pulls it together to say, “Touch yourself.”

Mike shifts a little, gasps and moans helplessly, sending vibrations through her, and then his tongue flicks and that's all she needs to come in one long slow rippling swell. She's just getting back the ability to think when he cries out and shudders, and she smiles a little when afterwards, he pulls himself away and flops beside her on the bed, carefully not touching.

“Order withdrawn,” she mumbles, and the two of them just lie there recovering for a while. When she looks over, Mike’s eyes are closed, his body slack and limp.

“You doing all right, cowboy?” she says.

“Mmn,” he says, eyelids fluttering half-open. “Mm-hm.”

She grins. “Aww, did I tire you out?”

He gives her a sleepy sardonic look and huffs, closing his eyes again. Julie snickers and gets up.

She gets dressed and fixes up her makeup, not bothering to hurry because Chuck is stroking Mike’s hair now, and judging by the way Mike is kind of curled around him, they could use a little time. Mike sighs softly, eyelashes fluttering as Chuck pats him, strokes down his back soothing and slow, runs a hand over his cheek. Julie nibbles her lip and wonders if there's a way she can get Chuck some time with him before the end of the night, if he'll be willing to step into the spotlight. It'd be nice to show off _both_ her boys, if she gets a chance...

“All right,” she says finally. “About time to get back out there. I'll bet we can get you fed some more if you want, Mike.”

“God yes,” he says, sitting bolt upright, and she laughs. “Hey, being on display is hard work, I deserve some snacks!” he protests with a grin, and she goes over to ruffle his hair.

“I'll see what we can do,” she says.

“You have one order still outstanding,” Chuck says, looking at her. “Best to withdraw that so it doesn't stack and cause any unintentional effects.”

“Oh, good point,” Julie says, and withdraws it.

“Thanks,” Mike says softly, nudging his head against Chuck’s shoulder.

Chuck runs a hand through Mike’s hair. “I don't need access to my emotions to care for your wellbeing. Keeping both of you safe and well is my highest priority.”

“Such a sweet-talker,” Julie says to hide the way that makes her go warm and soft inside. Mike isn't bothering to hide it, smiling at Chuck with his heart in his eyes.

“Come on,” Julie says, patting Mike on the butt, and he snorts at her and gets up to dress.

*

“You were gone awhile!” Raquel says as Julie sits back in her chair, politely kept open for her.

“Yeah, sorry, it takes awhile to wear this one out,” Julie says. 

“Somehow I don’t think you’re actually sorry,” Raquel says. 

“Nope,” Julie says, and Raquel giggles. 

“Well, the poor thing does look tired,” Mala cuts in, looking fairly well exercised herself. “You didn’t take him by the refreshments, did you?”

“Not since we got here,” Julie says. “He could probably do with a refuel.” On his cushion, Mike perks up at this, blatantly hopeful, and earns another round of giggles from the assembled girls. “Would anyone care to donate some nibbles?” Julie suggests, and Mala smiles lazily and hands her plate to Raquel, who takes it happily and offers some fancy sweetmeat to Mike. 

“Don’t take her fingers off,” Julie admonishes, catching him by the collar as he eagerly leans forward. He gives her a hurt look, then finishes the motion with exaggerated delicacy, nipping it from her hand without so much as touching her skin, then dropping a sly little kiss against one of her fingertips. She squeals with laughter and Julie tugs Mike’s collar again, smiling herself. 

“You give them an inch,” she remarks to the audience, then, to Mike: “Don’t get an _attitude_ , pet.”

He just raises his eyebrows at her in an innocent _Who, me?_ while chewing, then looks with open anticipation at the rest of Raquel’s plate. Raquel laughs again and feeds him another few tidbits while he gives her winning looks from under his eyelashes.

“It looks like he got over being shy,” Basia says. “What a charmer!”

“A little—encouragement—does wonders,” Julie says, smirking, “and he's a fast learner.”

“I can see that,” Basia says, grinning at her.

“All right,” says the girl with the big earrings, “but what else has he learned?” Julie lifts an eyebrow at her and she blinks and then rolls her eyes. “I mean, not like that. Mala showed off her girl, I had Amar sing,” she pats her pet, who smiles at the floor. “And Mei Lin’s boy showed us how flexible he is with his gymnastics. Does—it’s Mike? Does Mike have anything special he can do?”

Julie smiles slowly as she looks down at Mike to hide how furiously she's thinking. Mike can do some nice handsprings and flips and things, but that won't do if another pet has already done gymnastics, especially since the pet has probably been professionally trained. Next to his tricks, Mike’s might look sloppy, and Julie’s not risking that. He doesn't usually do them just on their own, either, they really show to best advantage when he's using them as evasive maneuvers in the middle of—

She stops, thinks it over, decides. It'd be unorthodox, yes, showy and shocking to the very point of _distasteful_ , but that fits the persona she's putting on (it fits who she really _is_ ), so there's no reason not to.

“I think you could say that, yes,” she tells Big Earrings. She turns and catches Chuck’s eye, tilts her head so he steps forward and bends down so she can murmur in his ear. He only thinks a second before nodding, and Julie is grinning when she turns back to the rest of them. “We'll need to clear a ring for the performance.”

There's some shifting around and Raquel and a couple of the others direct their guards to pull everything back from the center, leaving a nice space open in the middle for Chuck to stand in. 

“Hey, boy?” Julie drawls. 

Mike looks up at her inquisitively. _Yeah?_ Says his raised eyebrow. 

Julie points at Chuck. 

“‘Sic ‘im,” she says. 

Mike gives her _that_ grin and _launches_ , lunging up from the pillow in one smooth motion and hurling himself at her bodyguard. Chuck barely blinks, just flows with it. The crisp dark lines of his suit emphasize every inch of height he has on Mike, his broader shoulders and deeper chest, but even when mostly-naked, Mike looks more like a gladiator than a toy. He looks like something compact and deadly, hard-used but endlessly triumphant. And, of course, there’s that grin of his, his giddy laughter as Chuck dodges, kicks, spins, hammers at him. Inhumanly blank, Chuck fights like a precision machine, tireless and precise and eerily calm: every block and blow just shows Mike to better effect, his joy in motion, the way he sweats and gasps and glitters, the way he doesn’t stop either. The two of them fight so perfectly matched they hardly move from the center of the ring, though the watching girls shriek and wince away from their violence, and the bodyguards beyond finger their various hidden weapons. 

Mike gets Chuck pinned, once, and it seems for a moment they’ll end, there, Chuck breathing deep and steady, but then his eyes flare blow-torch blue and he flips Mike over with a crackle of joints and a gruesome wet _thump_ as Mike’s face catches the floor. Mike yelps, laughs again, scissor-kicks his way free, and they’re off and running, tangling and breaking apart almost too fast to watch, Mike pulling out every showy flip and tumble and high kick he knows, nearly flying, and Chuck taking each one apart in flawless measure like they’ve choreographed this. Blood is starting to spatter against the polished, pitch-black titanium plating and Mike’s still laughing like gravity’s just a rude suggestion, like pain is a joke. 

Julie gives it a minute, judging the room carefully, the emotion. Girls leaning in, giggling, gasping, bodyguards getting more and more intent, older patrons starting to spiral in towards the disturbance, faces set in horror and disapproval. 

Julie snaps her fingers, sees Chuck hear it. 

“Down, boy,” she says. Chuck flips Mike a final time, hands on his waist, his wrist, making it look good as he breaks away, and Mike gets the idea in time. He gives a showy bow to all the girls and paces back to Julie’s side, breathing hard, wiping a gruesome streak of red all along his arm from his split lip, and drops gracefully to his knees on the pillow. 

“And that’s what _my_ boy does,” Julie says, and rests a hand proudly on the nape of his neck, right over the collar. 

“...Just what the _hell_ does Kapulsky Enterprises _do_?” Big Earrings asks, looking kind of ill.

“If you have to ask you can’t afford us,” Julie says. “Anyway, can I get a cleanup over here? Tissue? Thanks.”

Taking the offered tissue, Mike wipes the blood off his arm, licks it off his lip and looks up at her for approval. He's flushed and bright-eyed, vivid and glowing and alive with adrenaline and Julie can't for the life of her help leaning down to kiss him fiercely. She pulls back with his blood smeared on her lips and licks it away, smirking at Raquel, who looks a combination of delighted and shocked.

“Good boy,” Julie says, tousling Mike’s hair, “you gave us an excellent performance.”

Mike moans like he's startled, like he forgot about the collar, forgot he'd be getting a reward: he gives a full body shudder, then leans heavily against her chair, panting for air. Julie takes the tissue away from him just so she can run a clean dry corner over his lips back and forth, needlessly, and watch his eyelashes flutter shut. With his blood up from fighting, every sensation must be that much more magnified... 

“As you can see, I like my men decorative _and_ functional,” Julie tells Raquel.

“He certainly is that!” Raquel says. “He's _multi_ functional, in fact!” Then she slants a look at Chuck, once more leaning against the wall behind Julie’s chair. “And your guard is pretty decorative, too. Very nice.”

“Mmm,” Julie agrees, smiling as she glances back at Chuck herself. “And also multifunctional. Well,” she says to Raquel’s wide-eyed look, “when you find someone with plenty of raw talent, why wouldn't you find a way to put it to use? Silly to waste it.”

“Very—resourceful,” Raquel says, a little faintly.

Julie smiles and glances around the room. The girls who are paying attention to their conversation look cool and withdrawn at best, and Big Earrings looks outright disgusted. Apparently fucking your guard is a couple steps beyond the boundary of ‘bad taste’ and right into ‘gross and not to be admitted to’. Better correct that.

“Besides,” Julie says, “Mike so appreciates the extra attention! You know it can take an awful lot of work to keep a fit young man busy enough.”

“Oh!” Raquel says, relief in her smile. “I bet they're very pretty together.”

“Oh yes,” Julie purrs, running her nails gently down the back of Mike’s neck, making him catch his breath. “ _I_ appreciate the _show_.”

Basia laughs, the closed, disapproving look gone without a trace. “And of course you're going to taunt us by telling us about that when we don't get to see it!”

“Oh, did you want a demonstration?” Julie says, grinning.

“Ooh,” Raquel says eagerly, looking back at Chuck. “Will he, though? I'd think he wouldn't want to be distracted.”

“We'll see,” Julie says with an unconcerned shrug. “He's cy, though. They're very good at multitasking.”

“I _thought_ he might be augmented,” Raquel murmurs in satisfaction as Julie beckons Chuck forward.

This time he thinks a little longer before nodding, but she made sure to give him an out, and without his emotions he wouldn't hesitate to refuse, so he's okay with this. Possibly because exactly what he chooses to do is up to him.

Smiling, Julie sits back to watch.

*

Mike hopes he doesn't look too eager. Making out with Julie is awesome and he loves it, but it's felt really weird to be all over her while Chuck can't join in. He's kind of pleased to get to balance it out some, even if it's going to be odd with Chuck’s emotions blocked.

“Stand up,” Chuck says quietly, and Mike obeys promptly. The collar doesn't respond to Chuck, of course, but Julie murmurs, “Good boy,” and gets Mike breathing harder anyway.

Chuck glances around with no sign of discomfort over all the eyes on him, pulls Mike forward a few steps to where everyone can see them, and turns to put him in profile to the audience. Then he leans in and kisses Mike, gentle with the split in his lip but _very_ thorough. Mike puts his hands on Chuck’s shoulders and moans, leaning into him, because this is still a performance and Mike can multitask a _little_ , okay, enough to play up how much he's enjoying himself.

“Very nice,” someone says in the background. “Can I ask, um, what features are augmented?”

“Lots,” Julie says smugly. “Mostly defensive and offensive capabilities, of course, but he's had some work done on the— _recreational_ side too. Mike seems to like it.”

“Ooh,” someone else says, giggling. “Nice. Well, since he can't do that here, do you suppose he'd like to use this?”

Julie laughs. “Let's ask him! Chuck!”

Chuck pulls back to look at her and Mike looks over too. It takes him a minute to decipher the shape Julie’s holding up, but then his eyes go wide. That's almost certainly a sex toy. One meant to go inside him, from the look of it. Julie clicks a button and it starts to buzz, and she gives Mike an amused, dangerously intrigued look.

Swallowing hard, he looks back at Chuck. It's not that Mike had any illusions left about getting through this evening without being publicly melted into an embarrassing puddle, but he was sort of hoping to leave it until later.

Chuck is still expressionless, but something about the thoughtful way he looks at Mike has Mike’s face heating. It seems like a very long time before he looks back at Julie and says, “Save that for when I'm done with him, ma'am.” Then he ducks to kiss Mike again while Mike is still reeling.

“Ooh, what a good idea! Do you mind?” Julie asks someone off in the distance as Chuck runs his hands down Mike’s back to grab his ass so Mike gasps into the kiss.

Mike’s ears are burning and his heart pounds like they're still fighting instead of making out. Chuck is going to get him all worked up and _then_ hand him over to _Julie_ , _god_. It's so unfair when the two of them cooperate like this, he doesn't have a chance. But then, tonight he's not supposed to, and all those eyes on him are eager, appreciative, not judging him for falling short.

Chuck kisses him without making any noise himself, no moans or smug hums, unsmiling when he pulls back for a moment. His hands sliding over Mike’s body are firm and sure, pulling groans and gasps from Mike without difficulty, but without his emotions Chuck isn't playful about it like usual, he just goes straight for his targets, touching Mike with almost clinical precision. Of course he knows all the best spots on Mike, but normally he's not this direct about it.

It should be a lot less hot than it is, Mike thinks, a wavering moan coming out of him as Chuck catches an earlobe between his teeth and tugs, then bites his neck with a steady rhythm. One hand slides up his side, curves around to rub over a nipple through his shirt, then slips down, past where he wants it, where he's already hard and eager, to tease at the insides of his thighs just below where these stupid tiny shorts end.

“He's very… professional,” someone says a little uncertainly.

“Oh, that's his thing,” Julie says. “He keeps most of his personality disengaged while he's on the job. Nobody does professional objectivity like a cyborg.”

“How interesting!”

Clutching at Chuck’s shoulders, Mike whimpers as Chuck sucks a mark onto his throat just above the collar.

“Doesn't that mean he can't really enjoy this, though?” someone else asks.

“Obviously he gets enough out of it to want to do it,” Julie says with an audible shrug.

“Neurocybernetics are so fascinating, though,” says the first girl. “Do you know which sort of primary emotional module—” She and Julie proceed to launch into an animated discussion that Mike is pretty sure he wouldn't be able to follow even if he wasn't incredibly turned on and distracted right now.

He's grinding up against Chuck’s thigh by the time Chuck pulls back again to look him over, coolly assessing. Chuck tilts his head in consideration, then grabs Mike by the hips and picks him up, effortless and smooth. Mike makes a startled noise, then wraps his legs around Chuck’s waist at a pointedly raised eyebrow. Of course, so he can feel Mike up more efficiently— one of his hands slips under Mike’s shorts, kneads his bare ass. 

Whining, Mike buries his face in Chuck’s neck, nuzzling under his ear. Dares to kiss him right where he usually likes it—

Chuck tsks at him. “Stop that,” he murmurs, unaffected, and Mike whines again, twisting against him as Chuck’s fingers stroke and press and knead, one hand firm on his ass, the other roaming freely.

“Is he misbehaving?” Julie says, breaking off her conversation.

“Only a little, ma'am,” Chuck says as Mike moans in protest. “He's starting to get desperate.” His hands don't stop moving as he speaks, and Mike pants, hips twitching helplessly.

“Just the way we like him!” Julie says. “Keep up the good work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chuck says, still so _calm_ , and pinches Mike’s nipple, sudden and sharp enough that Mike yelps. Julie giggles, as do a lot of the watching girls, then pick up their conversations on... semifluid memory states, or whatever, Mike couldn’t possibly care less right now. Chuck’s touching him more harshly now, pinching and scratching at over-sensitized skin, pressing a thumb into each of his developing bruises, sucking and biting an aching line of hickies down his throat, pulling his hair, until it’s almost like they’re fighting again, only this time Mike’s just got to hold on and _take_ it. 

“Chuck,” Mike finally gasps, pushed past all hope of pride, “please— man, _please_ —”

“There,” Chuck says softly, and puts him down. Mike’s knees almost give out on him, but Chuck’s got him by an upper arm, keeps him standing without effort. Walks him the few steps back to Julie’s side. 

“All yours, ma’am,” he says. 

“Mmm,” Julie hums, appreciative, “yes, thank you.” Chuck steps back to his place against the wall and Julie eyes Mike, lips curved sleek and pleased, and he swallows hard, has to lock his knees to keep from wobbling, or throwing himself to his knees and _begging_.

“Mike,” she says, “strip for me. Slowly.”

Mike blinks at her in dismay, not so much at getting naked in front of all these people, which he'd kind of seen coming, but at the ‘slowly’ bit. He's never been good at doing anything slow, never even tried it when it comes to taking off his clothes—if he's getting naked he just does it, there's no point in drawing it out.

Still, it's a challenge, and he never backs down from those.

He gets his shoes off, nudges them under Julie’s chair. He grabs the hem of his gauzy tank and peels it up more slowly than usual, baring his skin in a sweep upwards, then pulls it over his head and off, dropping it beside his pillow on the floor.

He reaches for the fastening of his shorts, realizes that the collar hasn't started rewarding him, and gives Julie a betrayed look. He's _trying_ , it's not his fault if slow for him isn't the same as slow for everyone else.

Julie grins over at Raquel. “See what I mean about that pout?”

Raquel giggles, eyeing Mike's chest. She doesn't seem put off by the scars and bruises and stuff, which is kind of a surprise—Mike’s pretty sure getting him naked is a calculated risk Julie’s taking. He doesn’t really look much like the other sculpted, polished pets, under the glittery makeup and silly outfit. 

“Oh my god,” Basia says, putting a hand to her cheek in delight, “Raquel was totally right, though, the sulky look is _adorable!_ ”

Which is a total lie, because he's definitely not sulking right now, and if he was it wouldn't be cute. Mike does his best to ignore the conversation and focus on opening his shorts as slowly as humanly possible.

“Not that practiced at going slow, is he?” the girl in the shiny dress says, giving Julie an amused look.

“Only when it's important,” Julie says with a lazy, half-lidded smile. “I've had better things to teach him than how to do a strip tease.”

The shorts come open and Mike catches his breath in relief as his aching dick is freed, and with that out in the open he's pretty much naked already, so he lets his shorts drop and steps out of them, using one foot to flick them on top of his shirt. The collar still doesn't kick in, and he growls, then slides Julie a guilty look.

Julie looks around with a wry grin and a number of the girls burst into giggles. “Well, he has to be bad at _some_ things,” she sighs.

“As flaws go, that one's pretty cute,” Mala admits, stroking her dancer pet’s hair.

Julie smiles at her, then looks up at Mike and her expression goes wicked. “Sit,” she says, scooting over until there's space to perch on her chair beside her.

Hesitantly, Mike obeys, groaning when the collar reacts this time—at least he can't mess _this_ up.

“Spread your legs,” Julie purrs.

Ears hot, Mike drops his head and sets his feet wider apart, trying to keep his moan at the reward quiet. Then Julie runs a finger up his dick and _quiet_ stops happening.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, low enough that it's just for him. “You're so perfect like this. So sexy, so sweet. Doing whatever I tell you.” She trails her finger up over the tip where he's all slick and he jolts, moan catching in his throat. That one finger slides up and down, driving him crazy, while she murmurs in his ear.

“I wonder how much I could get away with. How far would you go, cowboy?”

She pauses, but it takes him a minute to realize it's not a rhetorical question. In his defense, he's _really_ distracted. He also wasn't expecting her to break character again.

He turns his head, tries to keep his voice as low as hers, which is hard when it keeps breaking into a whimper. “ _Hah_ —however far you want.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “If I want to mess you up bad in front of all these people?”

“You totally, ah, a-already did that,” he whispers. “Jules, I'm _naked_.”

She laughs in delight, leans in to nip his collarbone. “I'd noticed,” she says. “But you're not a mindless, worn-out mess yet.”

“Pretty—dang—close,” he mutters back, and she throws back her head and laughs again. God, she's so gorgeous, he's so lucky.

“Not really,” she whispers, eyes gleaming. “You'll be a lot closer before the end. I want you so fucked out you’re too tired to even beg for mercy. I want to _wreck_ you.”

Mike twitches, a hard shiver going through him. He heaves in air, swallows, answers, “Yeah, okay.”

The breath goes out of her in a huff and she stares at him a minute before shaking her head once. “God, Mike. You're amazing.” Her lips curve into a smirk. “It's too bad Chuck turned everything off,” she murmurs. “I'll bet if he was up for it you'd love to show everyone how good you are at blowing him.”

Mike shivers again, unsure even though it's hot. That's normally a private thing, kept between him and Julie and Chuck. But all of this is normally private, it's not like he usually wanders around naked in front of strangers, and Chuck does like it a lot when he does that, Mike _is_ good at it, and it's nice to have people appreciate his skills… He doesn't know. Maybe.

Julie pulls that one teasing, tormenting finger away from his dick, lifting it to slide into his mouth. Taken off guard, he moans kind of loud again, then sucks his own salt and musk off her skin.

Conversations have started up around them, people idly watching Julie play with him, _display_ him, while chatting among themselves. Raquel and Basia are talking with their eyes on him, only occasionally glancing at each other as they discuss—something, he doesn't know, he can't focus on anything but Julie.

“I like you desperate and moaning for me,” she whispers, pulling her finger out of his mouth to run it over his lips again. “Maybe I shouldn't let you come for the rest of the night. Just keep teasing you, working you up more, and see how long it takes before you're crying for me, pleading to be allowed to finish.”

Air shudders out of him and he makes a pleading noise almost involuntarily. Chuck and Julie have played enough edging games with him before that he knows to be wary. He'll do it for them because they like it, but… Mike has never been a fan of waiting for things.

Julie giggles. “No?” she murmurs, hand slipping down to trail fingernails along his collarbone. “Maybe I should do the opposite. See how many times you can go with this on.” Her other hand grabs the back of his collar and tugs and his moan in response is hoarse.

“You like having me and Chuck play with you at the same time,” she goes on, thoughtful. “I know I told Raquel that I wasn't interested in sharing, but these girls seem pretty nice. I bet three or four of them would love to make you moan, and you'd have a lot of fun if they were all paying you attention. I could hand you over to them so they could see how amazing you are from close up. I wonder how many times they could make you come.”

Mike drags in a wavering breath, chest tight. She's right, he—he'd probably enjoy it, really, he should agree if that's what she wants, but. Everything is going tense at the thought, he can't, even if it's dumb. He doesn't want Julie sharing him with anyone but Chuck, doesn't want to be naked and vulnerable away from both of them.

He has to swallow to speak. “I, I don't—please, no,” he whispers.

Her eyes widen and her hands stop teasing, press against him in comfort, one on his back, one gripping his arm. “Shh, no, nothing you don't want,” she tells him, and tilts his head down to kiss him gently, careful. “Not that option, then,” she says against his jaw.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Mike. You don't have to apologize, you dork,” she whispers. “Telling me what you don't want is _good_. That was good.”

He catches his breath as the collar takes its cue to go off.

Julie strokes his back, waits until his eyes focus again. “You okay?”

He finds a smile for her, nods. He is, he's okay, he doesn't have to do it and he was right to ask her not to, everything's okay.

“Good,” she says in a normal voice again. “Because I have plenty of other ways to turn you into a puddle.” Smirking, she picks up that toy someone gave her, holding it up in front of him, pushes the button to make it buzz and turns it off again. The noise cuts through the chatter, and suddenly they're the center of attention again, Raquel looking eager as Basia smiles.

“So,” Julie says, and he swallows.

“Oh,” Mala says, smiling suddenly. “You should let Sonya take care of that for you! She knows what she's doing, and that way you can just enjoy the show with the rest of us!”

Eyes widening, Mike looks at her pet, who gives him an intrigued smile that has his face warming.

Julie hums thoughtfully and studies him. “You can say no again,” she says softly. “You're not used to other people, after all.”

“I—can I stay by you?” he asks, just as low. “If she—?”

“Of course. I’d keep you right here with me. Would that make it okay?” she murmurs, and he nods. Another pet doing stuff is just more performance, it's not the same thing at all, it's fine. 

Julie smiles at him, turns to Mala still smiling and nods. “That sounds very nice, let's do it.”

Looking pleased, Mala confers in a low voice with her pet—Sonya—and Julie pats Mike on the shoulder.

“On your knees,” she says, and nudges him off the chair to kneel up in front of her, facing the rest of them. He moans as the collar reacts.

Sonya stands up from her pillow and paces gracefully across the floor to kneel in front of him, smiling at him. He does his best to smile back, but from the way her smile widens, it must have come out a little uncertain. Even after everything Julie’s done to him tonight, he’s still shy.

Her hands move and he realizes that she got lube from somewhere, because of course, she needs it for the toy, except she's putting it on her _fingers_ , she's going to—oh geez. Somehow her getting him ready seems really different than just sliding the toy in and being done, and his face goes so hot he thinks it must be scarlet. Licking the split in his lip, he looks back at Julie and gets a reassuring smile.

“Shh, relax,” she says, running a hand through his hair and trailing her nails down his neck. He shivers and relaxes almost involuntarily, whimpering as the collar rewards him for the obedience anyway.

“There you go, handsome,” Julie murmurs. “All you have to do is enjoy yourself. You think you can do that?”

Mike takes a breath and nods. It's not like this is a _problem_ , after all, he was just kind of taken by surprise.

“Good boy,” she says, and his moan this time is much louder.

Raquel gasps. “Julie, you said this is his first time out—is this his first time playing with someone else, too? Outside the household, I mean.”

“Mm-hm, lots of firsts,” Julie says. “Fortunately he tends to like new experiences.”

“Well, aren't you lucky!” Basia says to Sonya.

Sonya ducks her head and sends Basia a startlingly pretty smile that reminds Mike she gave Basia a lap dance a while ago. “ _Yes_ , ma'am,” she says. “Very.”

By the way Basia blinks and smiles back, she just got reminded too, and Mike should probably be taking mental notes on the tricks a real pet has, except Sonya’s hand is sliding between his legs, her other hand patting the inside of his thighs to spread wider, and then one slender finger presses up into him and _oh_ , yeah, she knows exactly what she's doing. 

“May I kiss you?” she murmurs, finger circling inside him, and he’d... it’d feel nice, but... he glances back up at Julie, helplessly: he doesn’t want that, it’s too much. Too intimate. 

“Be honest, pet,” Julie orders. 

“I’d— I don’t— no, thank you,” Mike manages, then arches and cries out as the collar rewards him right when Sonya slips another finger in. 

“Oh, well,” Sonya says, not insulted. “How about touching?”

“ _That’s_ okay,” Mike says with relief, “yes, please,” and shivers at the additional reward. 

“You’ve got lovely manners,” Sonya notes. “Such a gentleman!” And traces one of Mike’s scars, a big one from a knife that curves from his collarbone to lower ribs. The scar tissue itself is numb, but the skin around it is plenty sensitive, and Mike has to bite back a laugh at the delicate tickle. He squirms, biting his lip, and finds himself rolling back against her fingers, smooth and easy as she guides him. Right, she’s a professional, she knows how to do this so well, make him look good. This was a good idea, Julie’s brilliant, make him look more like a real pet after that fight. 

“You’ve had a rough life, haven’t you?” Sonya murmurs, tracing another few scars, little dashes from a flechette weapon scattered down along one hip. “But now your only job is to enjoy yourself, isn’t it? Make your mistress proud.”

Mike moans, startled, because... yes, actually. Yeah. 

“I am, too,” Julie says, ruffling his hair, then leaving her hand there, possessive. Mike leans against her gratefully. “He’s a good boy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sonya agrees easily as Mike gasps. “Very sweet. He's a real prize, and unique as well.” Her fingers slide along the dips between his muscles, from his pecs down the ripples of his abs, and Mike shifts and twitches a little, because it tickles again. There's an appreciative murmur from several of the onlookers, and he realizes that even if her touch doesn't feel anything near as good as Chuck’s did, it must _look_ good, look like she's doing amazing things to him—which, really, she is, just with the other hand. She crooks the fingers inside him and rubs and he can't stop the moan that comes out of him, hoarse and low.

“Mike,” she says thoughtfully, looking up to meet his eyes, which are still wide, while hers are calm and amused. “You really are beautiful,” she murmurs, and he whimpers at the back of his throat and looks away, one hand clutching at Julie’s ankle behind him. His face is burning. He expects to hear stuff like that from Julie and Chuck, but it sounds really different from someone else, someone _professional_.

“Shh, it's okay,” Julie says, stroking his hair. “I told you so, it's not my fault if you didn't believe me.”

“Oh,” Sonya says, “he's modest! That's incredibly cute. Maybe if he doesn't believe you, ma'am, he just needs to hear it from more people.”

“Oh,” Raquel says, “we can help with that! Mike, you are _so_ _pretty!_ ”

Mike swallows, rocking against Sonya’s slow-moving hand, shivering as the compliments come streaming in. The first time, when Julie had just come in and started showing him off and they all admired him, he assumed it was just a way of being friendly to her. Now Julie and Chuck have told him they're all serious, and it's just—it's a lot. He tries to keep his grip on Julie’s ankle light enough not to be uncomfortable, but hangs on like a lifeline.

“You're such a sweetheart,” Sonya says as they finally stop saying admiring things about his face and his shoulders and his thighs and—other bits of him. “Look at you, what a find you must have been. Although I suppose it might have taken a while to tell,” she adds to Julie.

“I didn't get him fresh off the auction block,” Julie says, “so I don't know what he was like before preliminary training—of course, since before then he might’ve _actually_ been dangerous. Chuck wouldn't have risked it.” Mike hears her huff behind him, like the dictates of her bodyguard are a familiar, mildly begrudged constraint. “But when I did get ahold of him, yeah. He was still pretty rough.”

“Didn’t you say he was a pirate?” Raquel says. “Were you— you weren’t _joking,_ were you!” She sounds startled, and Mike wonders if that’s normal or something, if people like to brag about their pets like that, make stuff up— Julie just laughs gently. 

“No, not about our Mike, here,” she says. “He had a rap sheet and everything. Of course, it’s all cleared up now. Commuted, you know.”

“You could call this community service,” Sonya purrs wickedly, and Julie laughs again, bright and delighted. 

“Oh, that’s good!” she says. “Pet, look at you, you’re being so _virtuous!”_

Mike smiles back at her, painfully aware of his flushed face, the way the attention’s getting to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he offers, and her delighted look turns hot and hungry. She draws him backwards, just enough to make him have to arc and strain, and kisses him like that. 

“You’re my _good boy,”_ she murmurs. “You’re the best of any of them.”

Mike whimpers again, first at the reward and then at the ridiculously _confident_ way she says that, like a promise. 

“Sonya’s— aah! Aah, nnh, nice, though, she’s, nnn _really... oh...”_ he breaks off to roll his hips desperately against the other pet, thoroughly distracted by her appreciative giggle and renewed activity, the way she slides her soft fingers up the taut skin of his stomach to his chest, circles around one of his sore nipples. Julie hums approval and kisses his forehead, then lets him settle back down. 

“You two _are_ awfully cute together,” Julie comments. “Mala, I should have said so earlier, she really is gorgeous. Kind of a classical style, right?”

“Well, we can’t all be avant-garde, Kapulsky,” Mala says. “Some of us have to keep up appearances.”

“Keep up? More like blow them out of the sky!” Julie protests. “Look, if people like you didn’t maintain traditions so flawlessly, people like me couldn’t run around flaunting them. It’s a give and take.”

“You didn’t seem to have that attitude around Pryndeki,” Raquel says. 

“Who—? Oh, that sniffy girl? Well, I didn’t like her.”

There’s a round of scandalized giggles. Apparently that’s not something tactful to admit— Julie pauses a moment, then joins in the giggling, going, “Sorry! Sorry, well, I didn’t! She’s not like Mala, is she?”

There’s a general outpouring of support for Mala as well as her pet Sonya, and the conversation moves on. Mike feels a distant sort of pride that Julie’s so good at this, at people, practically a social acrobat, but he feels a much more immediate, demanding set of emotions about having Julie’s legs to lean against, and her hand in his hair, and Sonya’s hands doing... all kinds of things. 

“You’re good,” he manages to tell the other pet, “at, at this. With me. Really good.”

“Aww. Thanks! You still want that toy, right?”

“She— uh, J— Jules, my, uh,” Mike tips his head back, stares up at Julie. “She... wants?” 

“Good boy,” Jules says. “For paying attention like that. I do want that.” 

Mike beams at her hazily, pleased to have gotten it right. 

“He calls you _Jules_?” the earrings girl asks. 

“When he forgets himself,” Julie says. “It’s— aw, pet, don’t look like that, it’s okay. It’s cute. You’re having a good time, right? You must be, to slip up like that, it’s been awhile.”

Mike nods. “Sorry,” he says, though. “I’m. Ma’am. Really, aah, s-sorry.”

“Shh. Relax. We’ll go over it later.”

Julie passes over the toy to Sonya, and Mike swallows hard, makes an effort to relax. Doesn’t quite get it enough for a reward, until Sonya starts pressing the toy into him and that... concentrates his attention. It slips in, stretching him open a lot wider than her clever fingers, a sweet ache that has him responding with a by-now well practiced ease, and he gets the reward in one long, delicious swell.

Before he's caught his breath from that, Sonya clicks something and the toy thrums to life inside him, buzzing against his sweet spot so he gasps and twists, shuddering. It feels amazing, almost too much but not quite. The pleasure shocking through him keeps him breathless and open-mouthed, hips twitching and writhing, hands fastened desperately on Julie’s legs behind him. It's so overwhelming that he doesn't realize how close he is until he's already coming, helpless and startled.

A murmur goes around and it sounds appreciative, approving, but it can't be, he wasn't supposed to come so fast. Mike shudders with the aftershocks, gasping for breath as the toy keeps buzzing.

“S-sorry,” he pants over his shoulder, twisting to see Julie’s face. “Nnh—I didn't mean to—it's really— _ah!_ ”

“It's all right, pet,” Julie says, stroking his hair and looking thoughtful. God, why didn't he _notice_ , now he's messed up Julie’s show and disappointed her and he's such an idiot—

“Shall I turn it off, ma'am?” Sonya asks.

Julie smiles slowly and Mike's eyes widen. Oh. Oh boy, he knows that intrigued look. “Can you handle this, Mike?” she asks, and her tone has a stern edge. She wants him to think about it, doesn't just want the easy answer.

The buzzing inside him feels even more intense now that he's come. It doesn't quite hurt, though, he can, he can deal with it. He chews on his lip, then nods.

“Good,” Julie says, voice warm, and Mike moans in startlement as the collar kicks in, his body going rigid for a moment with the overload. “You're doing so well for me,” she says, and he whimpers at the repeated reward. “Now I just want you to enjoy yourself, and see how long it takes you to come again.”

Oh god. Oh boy, okay. He gives her a nod, and then Sonya makes an interested hum and starts touching him again. She runs her hands up his thighs, rubs her thumbs over the hollows of his hips. One hand slides up to his chest to brush feathery touches over his sore, sensitive nipples and Mike catches his breath at the tickle, the tease, too light to hurt or feel much at all. Against the intensity of the toy working in him, it feels unbalanced.

“Can, can you,” he says to Sonya, unsure if he's allowed to ask but wanting. “Um, more, please?” He arches his back hopefully.

Sonya giggles, pleased. “So polite!” she says, and strokes a thumb firmly over one nipple.

Mike moans aloud at how good it feels, a hot little ache with pleasure underneath.

“He’s got a taste for pain, doesn’t he?” she asks Julie, who snorts and shifts behind Mike, runs her nails through his hair. 

“He came with it— it was a real surprise, but a _very_ nice one,” Julie says fondly, and clenches her fingers, pulling his hair sharply. Mike shudders and arches at the sensation, breathing harshly, and Sonya pinches his nipples, _hard_. He moans a lot more loudly than he’d meant to, but it makes both girls laugh, so, so that’s okay.

Julie continues, “It’s pretty handy for when he gets like this, overwhelmed, but I want to wring another couple rounds out of him. Or just when I’ve had a bad day, you know?” She shakes him, not very gently, by the fistful of hair, and Mike makes a completely embarrassing strangled whimper. It _hurts_ , but more than that is the thought of Julie throwing him around, like Chuck does when they play, Julie coming at him with fire in her dark eyes and those sharp nails ready to mess him up. 

“Oh, yeah, you like that thought, don’t you?” Julie murmurs. “Me coming home to you sometime and just _letting loose_. Carving into you. Because you can take it, can’t you? You can take anything I feel like giving you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mike manages. “ _Please_ , ma’am!”

“Still so polite,” Sonya remarks. She reaches down between Mike’s legs, takes gentle hold of Mike’s rapidly recovering dick. “That’s some _excellent_ training.”

“It’s excellent starting material,” Julie corrects her. Mike can’t help an involuntary smile at that, a bloom of warmth in his chest. She runs her free hand down the back of Mike’s neck, running the edge of a nail along where some scars must be, the old damaged skin reading sharp and then numb and then sharp again. 

“Can I scratch him, ma’am?” Sonya asks. 

“Hm. Mike, pet, can she?”

“Yes please!” Mike says hastily. “ _Yes_.”

“Very well. But no blood, if you don’t mind. I like to be the only one leaving permanent marks on him, these days.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Sonya says, and then scratches him shoulders to hips with her long, gold-leaf nails, eight burning lines of sensation that flare and settle into a tingling warmth. Mike gasps at it, too startled even to moan. He hadn’t expected to be getting worked over by a stranger, like, _at all_ when he’d walked in here, wouldn’t have wanted it at the start of things, but it’s _really_ good, and Julie’s watching him— and _her_ — and Sonya can’t do anything that both of them haven’t signed off on, and it’s great. It’s amazing. His dick is so hard again it’s leaking, and the toy inside him doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything near enough, anymore. 

“Not like it used to be, for you, is it?” Sonya murmurs to him, her nails digging sharp little marks into his sides, his belly, the insides of his thighs. “Your mistress takes such good care of you now, only hurts you as much as you want.” One hand comes away from the stinging row of dents she's leaving in his skin, traces the scar where his neck slopes into his shoulder. “She’ll make sure no one gives you any more of these.”

Mike is twitching and shivering with every drag of her nails, and then she idly grabs his dick and strokes it, just once, and his hips buck into her hand. He moans shakily.

“It must be a relief,” Sonya says, “not to have to fight and struggle anymore. Life is better with her taking care of you, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, hoarse and honest. Life is a lot better with Julie and Chuck at his back and in his bed, he doesn't know where he'd be without them.

“And you like being good for her,” Sonya says with a sly edge to her smile, and Mike shivers all over.

“Yes,” he says, almost a moan.

Julie chuckles low and pleased. “And you _are_ so good for me,” she purrs.

Mike moans sharp and loud as the collar rewards him, bucking and then leaning back against Julie’s legs, breathing hard, muscles shivering. Sonya strokes his chest soothingly for a moment, letting him settle, then tweaks a nipple again, pulling another gasp out of him.

“I think,” she says, “you must have been very sweet, for a pirate. Training can only do so much, after all. I bet you were rough around the edges, but anyone who looked close enough could have seen you were worth more than that. And now that you have a better setting, it's clear what a treasure you are.”

Mike shivers, head low and face burning. The compliments haven't gotten any easier to deal with, especially when she's saying nice things about what he's like, who he is, instead of his body. He's not sure how a real pet would respond to this kind of positive attention, but—maybe it's okay to not know, to react differently to everything. That's what Sonya’s saying, after all, is that his differences make him interesting, special.

“Am I right, ma'am?” Sonya says, looking up at Julie. “You said he was rough, when you first got him, but I'll bet he was sweet, too.”

“Oh, he sure was,” Julie says, “when it _suited_ him. You see, he offered himself as a pet because he thought it was the soft option, and would be easier to escape. He had no intention of actually keeping up his end of the contract, did you?” she says to Mike, ruffling his hair, and he presses up against her hand, doing his best to look sheepish.

“How sneaky!” Sonya says, dragging her nails over his ribs. Mike twitches and gasps.

“Silly boy,” Julie says, and tugs his hair hard enough to send a jolt through him, getting a breathless moan. “He still thought he _wanted_ to escape. I just changed his mind.”

“How? What did you do?” Mala says, sounding fascinated. 

“Well,” Julie starts, and leans down enough to drop a kiss to Mike’s temple, then sits back up, obviously enjoying her audience. “Imagine you weren’t so lucky, growing up. No parents, or crappy parents. No money— no toys, games, _food_. No education, no future.” 

Mike shifts uncomfortably, not really liking this weird turn of the conversation at all. Julie just gives him a sharp shake, making him gasp, using him as punctuation. 

She goes on: “You grow up hard and mean and ungrateful. Then one day, a _beautiful girl—”_ there’s a ripple of laughter from the audience, she must have gestured at herself, “—comes and rescues you. And gives you food, and games, and all the love you ever missed out on. And you go a little crazy, right? Because it’s got to be a _trap,_ right?” 

Julie leans down and says, right into Mike’s ear: “Because no one would ever _really_ love you, right?” 

Mike whines, overstimulated, deeply uncomfortable with all of this but not enough to say stop, not in front of everyone. He wants to turn and bury his face in Julie’s skirts, against her thigh, grab on to her and hide but he’s uncertain now if he can, if he’s allowed. 

“I just waited him out,” Julie says. “That’s all. No big trick. I just loved him until he figured out it was safe to love me back. Isn’t that right, pet?”

Mike has to swallow hard, before he can say, “Y-yeah. Julie. Ma’am.”

“And now he knows how to be good for me, and sweet, and obedient. He likes it.”

“Yeah, I do,” Mike agrees, a lot more eagerly this time. “Please I’ll do anything, you know I would, _Jules_ , c’mon—”

“What was that?”

“Ma’am!” Mike gasps. “Sorry, sorry, I, I mean— _Mistress, please!”_

Julie takes a sharp breath in. “Mistress, huh? You _must_ be getting into this. Okay, pet, tell me what you want.”

“I wanna come.”

There’s another ripple of laughter. Mike is very, _very_ distantly embarrassed, because— he’s probably going too fast, again, being clumsy and unprofessional, not putting on a good enough show. But _god,_ his dick’s aching-hard again, the toy inside him pulsing and buzzing unmercifully against his sweet spot, all the scratches and bruises on his skin teased into one bright overwhelming mass of sensation. He’s about ready to burst at the seams, he knows it. 

“Sonya, I assume you know just what to do with that toy?” Julie asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sonya says. 

“Make him scream,” Julie says. 

“Yes, _ma'am!_ ” Sonya chirps. One hand slides between Mike’s legs, rocks the toy a little inside him, and—

Mike yelps, hands scrabbling behind him to cling to Julie again, because the toy—Sonya did something to it, turned it up, and it feels like the top of his head's about to come off. The rough buzzing pushes at him, keeps him off balance until he’s shaking, unsteady noises coming out of him uncontrolled. Even as desperate as he is to come, it still shoves him over the edge before he's ready, and when he cries out, it's closer to a scream than he'd like. 

The buzzing keeps going, and he’s shuddering through an aftershock when Sonya says something like “Hmm, not quite,” and the toy starts vibrating even harder, pulling him taut and desperate and trembling with too much sensation. It hurts, almost burning with overstimulation, and it's pushing him higher before he can so much as catch his breath. He goes rigid, head spinning, ears ringing so he can't be sure if he actually screamed or not.

A moment later the vibration drops back to a lower level, and he gasps for breath, all his muscles shaking. It doesn't stop, she's not turning it off, and it's too much, to think that they might push him through another orgasm, he can't—

“Please,” he says hoarsely, clutching at Julie, staring at Sonya, and he's not even sure which of them he's begging, maybe both. “Please, no, I c-can’t—”

“Shh, it's okay,” Julie says, stroking his hair, and Sonya turns off the toy. The relief is so intense he makes a sound like a sob, shuddering as she pulls the toy out.

Julie and Sonya exchange a few words before Sonya goes back to Mala, but Mike is kind of occupied leaning on Julie’s knees and trying to get control again. It's not really working.

“Come over here, pet,” Julie tells him, and he moves on wobbly legs back to the cushion next to her chair, where she pulls him close, his face against her thigh. “You did so well for me,” she murmurs, and the reward from the collar pulls a shocked cry out of him, followed by a pleading whimper. He didn’t know he could _still_ be made to feel pleasure, not after everything, not this worn out. 

“Oops,” she says, and ruffles his hair. “Okay, we’re— not gonna do more, of that. Alright? We’re just gonna hang out here for awhile, now. Shh.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he hides his face in her fluffy, silly skirts and clings, shaking. She strokes his hair and down his back, over and over. 

“It's okay, you're okay, Mike,” she says softly. “It's all right, you can relax now, you're done. It was a great show. We all loved it.”

She's being careful not to trigger the collar again, and he's so grateful, that she cares, that she's paying attention and looking out for him, that she's _here_. He's all messed up and overwhelmed and utterly vulnerable and she's right here, patting him, soothing him, and it knocks his attempts at controlling himself right out from under him again. _No one would ever really love you, right?_ And here she is, Chuck at her back, taking care of him even when he’s too rattled to stand up, or even stop shaking, biting his lip to keep from losing the very last scraps of his composure.

She gives him a soft cloth to clean up with, and he wipes his face before he deals with the sticky, dripping mess of his chest and thighs and completely exhausted dick.

The rest of him is pretty well worn-out, too, and he finds himself biting back a yawn by the time he’s fixed himself up. He wiggles awkwardly into his shorts, moving as little as possible, and Julie herself helps him navigate the stupid, floaty gauze of his shirt. After that he leans gratefully back on his pillow and doesn’t think twice when Julie puts her hand on the back of his neck, guiding him to lay his head back in her lap. He slings an arm around her waist, nuzzles her hip, and loses track of anything else in the universe. 

*

“I think your cyborg’s gonna be carrying that one home,” Mala comments. Julie just smiles and keeps petting Mike’s hair. 

“Well, he’s been pushed pretty far past his limit,” she says. “We can afford to go a little soft on him now.”

Sonya’s doing something to one of the other male pets, the acrobat, that certainly looks very athletic. Lots of posing and rolling around and giggling, much cleaner and _nicer_ looking than the brutal wringer she’d helped Julie put Mike through. Mala follows Julie’s gaze and smirks. 

“Thinking about getting a pair, maybe?” she suggests. 

“It’s tempting,” Julie says. “Sonya really is a gem.”

“If you got someone more classically trained, you could have the best of both worlds!” Basia puts in. “The contrast really was lovely, all his rough edges and Sonya’s grace.”

Julie smiles and agrees, and it certainly was appealing, aesthetically speaking, but the image hanging behind her eyes is of Mike, arching and shaking and screaming. Trusting her to tear him apart, then laying his head in her lap afterwards. 

“I’m not sure if I could be the right kind of mistress for a pet like Sonya,” Julie says. “I like...” She hesitates, looking for the right words: something witty and clever, to cover up this aching, fearful satisfaction inside her, this thing that likes to hurt people, to tear apart and devour. This thing that looks at the blood and bruises all over her boys and _purrs_.

Mala just nods, anyway. “You like it wild, don’t you?” she asks. “You’ve been playing nice with us all night, but it’s pretty obvious.”

Julie shrugs, embarrassed now. “I thought I was doing pretty well,” she admits.

“Well, nothing’s on fire, so we can’t complain,” Mala smiles. She touches her cheek, gives Julie a sly wink. “It’s okay, Kapulsky, wild is fun! You’ve _definitely_ livened the place up.”

“You’ve certainly intimidated the hell out of the other pets, with your Mike,” Raquel says. “I’ve never seen them quite so eager to show off!” She nods towards the ongoing show, now a threesome, which is... wow. Julie tilts her head and makes a mental note of the positioning. That’s something to try out later, maybe. After some really thorough stretching.

“Well, as long as everyone’s having fun, right?” Julie says, hazarding a shy smile. Mala smiles back, much more broadly, and leans in to pat her shoulder. 

“Absolutely,” she says. “Now, what _was_ that point you were trying to make earlier, about the relative framerates of synaptic relays?”

Julie spends the next fifteen or twenty minutes deep in discussion with a lot of brilliant women about a number of exciting subjects, which almost entirely makes up for the way her leg falls asleep where Mike’s sleeping on it. She strokes his hair and accepts a glass of sparkling wine and listens to Raquel give her nutshell pitch for a new line of hardlight-enhanced jump engines, then workshops it a bit to be more aggressive. 

“Nerds fold in the face of a woman who knows what she wants,” she advises Raquel. “Whether or not you’re even right! Just sell it hard, move fast, and you’ll be rolling the product out next year, I guarantee.”

“Maybe then I’ll be able to afford whatever it is Kapulsky Enterprises does,” Raquel teases. 

Julie finishes her glass and holds it up for another. “Oh, you don’t want to have to afford us,” she says. “If I never see any of you again after this it’ll be good luck all around.”

Big Earrings, whose name Julie _still_ can’t remember, looks thoughtful. Julie sips her next glass more slowly, remembering that she’s around people who are just as smart as she is and she’d better not drop too many hints about what she’s really doing here, however fun it is to have everyone guessing. 

Chuck steps in some time after that, and murmurs quietly into her ear, _“All agents secured, ma’am. We’re a go at any time._ ” She bites her lip and has to get a pretty firm hold of herself so she doesn’t kiss his jaw: he smells good, sharp with sweat from playing with Mike, and that odd inhuman _electric_ smell he gets when all his systems are fired up. 

Julie makes her excuses and ruffles Mike’s hair, trying to get him to wake up. He makes a soft, bleary little mumble and nuzzles his face against her, which would be heartbreakingly cute if it didn’t make her numb leg explode into pins and needles. 

“You _are_ going to have to carry him,” Mala notes. 

“And invest in fluffier skirts,” Julie grimaces, trying to knead the crawling, stinging itch out of her thigh. “Chuck, can you get him for me? Thanks.”

Chuck peels Mike up and slings one of his arms over his shoulders, and Mike makes another adorable, mostly-asleep sequence of noises, and butts his head against Chuck’s chin. The watching girls giggle and coo over how cute he is, then stand up one by one to give Julie effusive, sincere hugs and well wishes, and demand her contact info. Julie gives it, glad that Dutch had thought to mock her identity card up so thoroughly. Against all expectations, she really _likes_ all these bright, clever young women, and it doesn’t hurt to keep some lines open to a pack of galactic billionaires. 

“Be strange, but don’t be a stranger,” Raquel finally waves her off with, and Julie waves back, then gladly follows Chuck and Mike out of the party.

*

Texas and Dutch are jubilant when Julie and company get back to the ship. Julie exchanges congratulations and back slapping with them and grins when Dutch has a giggle fit over Mike, still in his booty shorts and fast asleep in Chuck’s arms. She and Dutch and Chuck agree on their next destination, and Dutch goes off to tell ROTH everyone's ready for takeoff while Julie follows Chuck back to Mike's room.

When Chuck spreads Mike out on the bed, he wakes up just enough to roll over and wrap himself around a pillow, snuffling quietly, before going still again. Julie snorts and grins helplessly, because that's way too cute to deal with. Sitting down on the bed, she tugs off her shoes, then gets Mike’s off. Then she looks up at Chuck.

“You about ready to disable that protocol?”

He doesn't argue at all, just nods. “Yeah, I can do that now.”

She pats the spot next to her and he sits down, eyes flashing blue as he begins unblocking his emotions. Julie leans over and gets the collar around Mike's neck unfastened, setting it aside in a safe spot.

A couple of minutes later, Chuck twitches, eyes widening, and Julie goes on alert, ready to supply whatever support he needs. He said in that private room he wasn't noticing much negative emotion behind the block, but that was only halfway through the party.

Chuck starts giggling, sounding almost hysterical. “Oh my god,” he says, standing up. “Oh my _god_ , oh my god.” He undoes his ponytail, raking his hands through his hair, and takes a couple quick steps to one side and then back, pacing as much as possible in the close confines of the room.

“Okay, _wow_ ,” Chuck says, shucking his suit jacket. “That was the kinkiest thing I've ever seen, that was _insane_ , oh my god.” He's still giggling, and Julie starts to relax. This is the good kind of giggle fit, everything's fine.

Mike makes a sleepy grumbling sound behind her, a protest at the noise, and Julie reaches back to pat him without looking. Somehow she gets his ass, and he squeaks.

“Ahaha oh my fuck,” Chuck giggles, and starts tearing off the rest of his suit. Julie is absolutely not complaining.

“You okay?” she says. 

“No!” Chuck says, still giggling. “Or maybe. Yes? I have no idea, Julie, I, ahaha, oh my fucking god, I felt up Mike in front of a bunch of _strangers_ , okay, I'm just, oh god.”

“Hey,” Julie says, grinning, “they aren't strangers. Raquel said she's my new best friend!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you're in good now with the insanely rich and brilliant contingent, it's great, and also we had Mike _begging to come_ in front of a _bunch of people_ , and I just, I think I sprained my dick, okay?”

Julie bursts out laughing.

“I'm serious!” Chuck says through a slightly wild grin, waving his arms. “I'm not even making sense, there's no blood left to think with!”

Julie smirks at him. “Am I sensing someone wants to have sex?”

“Gee, I fucking wonder!”

“Oh,” Julie says, “but we really can't, you know. There's this big taboo against having sex with your bodyguard, I just couldn't.”

The brief dismayed look gives way to complete exasperation and Chuck buries a hand in his hair and tugs. “Julie!”

“ _Mmrgh_ ,” Mike says, and lifts his head to blink reproachfully at them. “Loud,” he mumbles.

“Suck it up, Mike, we're having sex,” Julie says cheerfully, starting to take her dress off, and Chuck hisses in triumph and finishes getting naked.

“ _Nooo_ ,” Mike whines, and burrows under another pillow on the other side of the bed.

Julie snickers. “Let the record show, Mike can take about six orgasms before he turns down sex.”

“Weak, bro,” Chuck says, grinning as he helps Julie with her dress.

Without emerging from his pillowy shelter, Mike raises one hand, a single finger tiredly extended. It's hard to tell if it's meant for one or both of them.

Julie pulls her underwear off and crawls across the bed with a wicked smirk. “I can definitely suck on that if you want.”

The finger is rapidly retracted, diving for shelter under an edge of blanket, which is then tugged over the rest of him for good measure.

“No?” Julie says, pretending at shock as Chuck climbs onto the bed behind her. “You don't want anything sucked?”

“Oh my god, Jules,” comes the mumble from the lump of blanket and pillow. “No. Nothing, ever again. I'm done, my dick is done, it's retiring, okay? Let it rest in peace.”

“That sounds more like it's dead,” Chuck points out, nuzzling up Julie’s neck.

“Mm-hm,” Mike says. “You guys killed it. Worked it too hard and it died.”

“Oh, that's funny,” Julie says, leaning back against Chuck, her breath catching as he palms her breasts. “Because the way I remember it, the incredibly hot thing about the last few times was that no one touched your dick at all and you came anyway.”

“ _God_ ,” Chuck mutters, and sucks on her neck.

“Guys,” Mike groans. “Shush. Sleeping here.”

“Well, it's not like we're gonna get quieter,” Julie points out, gasping a little. “You want to go sleep in my room, maybe? Or you want us to go somewhere else?”

“No!” Mike says, and the pillow shifts aside for him to raise his head. “No, this is fine, okay? I'm just gonna…” He yawns, all sleepy and disheveled, and sticks his head back under the pillow. Just in time, too, because Chuck shoves into Julie without more than a pause to line up, and Julie yelps _“Ow, hey!”_ pretty loud. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry, sorry,” but doesn’t pull out. Julie reaches back and swats his hip.

“You want this to be over in like ten seconds?” she demands. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Chuck asks, breathlessly. 

“Get out, jerk,” Julie says. “Go on, we’re doing this right.” 

Chuck whines, long and piteous, but withdraws. He makes another apologetic noise when Julie winces, but when she rolls over and peers up at him he seems more frantic than genuinely sorry, his eyes wide and hungry. It definitely beats the way he looks when he’s worried he’s hurt her, let the strength of his body or emotions get the better of him. Desperation looks _good_ on him. 

“Julie, I’m going to die,” he blurts out, before she can say anything. “My dick is going to fucking explode and we’ll have to bury the remainder on some forsaken asteroid with Mike’s, come _on!”_

“Gimme your hand,” Julie says. Chuck groans, loud and exasperated, but does. She places it firmly on her junk, and makes a pleased hum when he goes right for her clit, rubbing gentle, practiced circles. 

“Nice,” she says, and scooches down so her thighs are slung over his and she can reach down between her legs to grab his dick. Chuck groans again at that, relieved and eager, and bucks up into her hold. 

“Nuh-uh,” she scolds him, tensing her legs, keeping him steady. “C’mon, you waited all night, you deserve a little more than a quick fuck and straight to bed.”

Chuck whimpers a little in the back of his throat, then says, low and gorgeous, “Yeah, and this doesn’t have anything to do with _you_ getting _yours,_ huh? Getting a _couple more_ of yours.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Julie says, and purrs appreciatively when Chuck pinches her clit, just enough to put a spark of pain in the rising, distracting pleasure. 

Chuck leans down and mouths at her throat, his spine in a high, tight arc just to manage it and his flexibility is _definitely_ one of Julie’s favorite things. She relaxes against the bed—melts, more like— humming satisfaction as Chuck picks up the pace, sucking harsh marks all down her throat, a trail of tingling, oversensitive skin that makes her shiver when his mouth leaves it and his long feathery hair drags over it. His free hand is petting aimless trails all over her body, pausing to squeeze and rub here and there, her shoulder, a breast, the curve of her hip, like he’s reacquainting himself. He was watching her all night, she remembers, watching her take Mike apart, watching her charm the hell out of all those other girls, watching her in that frilly little party dress. When Chuck squeezes her thigh and bears down on her clit, rubbing her harder, faster, she barely has time to gasp before it sends her over the edge. He kisses her sloppily as she shudders through the climax and then squirms through the aftershocks, with him messy and pleading and whining almost as much as she is. 

“Okay,” she finally goes, when his touch has turned electric-painful, “o-okay, okay, ha _aah,_ nice. God, Chuck. Aah. St- _aah!_ Stop.”

“Good?” Chuck says, mouthing at her jaw. 

“Great. Perfect. Fantastic. Super good.”

“Cool,” Chuck says. He’s trembling, Julie realizes distantly, because, that’s not her shivering anymore, it’s him. 

Chuck says tightly, “If you go to sleep I am going to throw myself out a fucking airlock, Julie, _please. PLEASE touch my dick_.”

“I am though,” Julie says, because she’s been holding it the whole time. 

“Touch my dick like you mean it,” Chuck says. “Like it’s a dick you feel sorry for, and want to put out of its misery.”

“Okay, okay,” Julie says, rolling her eyes. “Whiner.”

“I can get whinier!”

“Well don’t!” Julie goes to actually stroke Chuck’s dick instead of just holding it, and they both wince at the stickiness. Half-dried precome and whatever lubrication it got from its single trip inside Julie don’t add up to a great feeling for either of them. 

“Yuck,” Julie says. “Okay, yeah, I’m not jerking this off, just stick it in.”

“Your dirty talk needs work,” Chuck says breathlessly. “Like. _So much_ work.” 

“My dirty talk is fine! You just don’t rate the good stuff!” 

“Oh, come on!” Chuck complains, but distractedly. He lines himself up and pushes in, obviously trying to go slow and steady and not succeeding all that well. The noise he makes when he’s all the way in is incredible, loud and shaky and so _relieved_ , it makes Julie giggle.

“Roll over,” she says. “I wanna ride you!”

“Make me, you jerk,” Chuck says, and starts to thrust. 

“Oh— come— _on!”_ Julie protests, but Chuck’s got his big hands wrapped around her hips and is driving into her fast and forceful, with strokes that heat her back up and make her bite her lip just to be able to concentrate. She squirms and claws at the bedspread, trying to flip them, which doesn’t work at all but does summon Mike from his pillow nest. 

He stares at them groggily for a few seconds, then smiles, a goofy, unguarded expression of sheer happiness and approval that steals Julie’s breath away. 

“Mike,” she says, and he reaches out and takes hold of her hand. That wasn’t at all what she was asking for, but she’ll take it, actually.

“Ruin her, Chuckles,” he says sleepily.

“Mike!” she protests.

“I’m gonna,” Chuck says shortly, already breathing hard. “See who rates the— the good— dirty talk—after— mm _mmh, aah,_ god, after that!”

“Ooh, your dick is so big, you space stallion, ooh,” Julie says.

“It is though,” Mike mumbles.

“Yeah,” Julie admits. “It’s alright.”

Chuck makes an incoherent, unfairly sexy growl of exasperation and kind of _slams_ into her, startling a full-throated moan out of her, and after that it’s a lot harder to think of anything snarky to say.

Julie clings to Mike’s hand and pants and shudders with every thrust. Chuck’s usually much more cautious, but right now he's desperate enough to not even try to be gentle with her, and it's kind of amazing how hot it is. He just keeps driving in, pushing her higher until she's gasping, rocking up against him.

Julie is more used to topping her boys than being topped by them, but she's really not complaining because this is incredible. She does love teasing Chuck, though, and she owes it to him to make sure he gets some nice, satisfying sex and doesn't come too soon. Purely from altruistic motives and not at all because she's wicked, she scrapes her brain off the ceiling and finds a good line.

“Give it to me, you big tough stud,” she says, trying not to giggle.

Chuck almost chokes, thrust faltering. “ _Julie oh my god!_ No!”

“Yeah! Do me harder, he-man!”

Chuck groans breathlessly at her, trying to get his rhythm back as she snickers under him. 

“Jules,” Mike says reproachfully, though when she looks over he's got a sleepy grin on, “that's mean. Be nice.”

“I dunno,” Julie says, rolling her hips against Chuck’s, “I think, _mmh_ , I'm being pretty nice already.”

“Not when you're—saying stuff—like that you aren't!” Chuck says.

Julie forgets what she was going to say for a minute because his hips shift in a way that hits her just right and _oh_. It takes a few breaths to get her words back.

“So I should be nicer, hmm?”

“You really should,” Chuck pants.

“Uh-oh,” Mike murmurs, eyes closed but still grinning.

Julie brushes her free hand along Chuck’s jaw and smirks. “Who’s my big strong sexy bodyguard!”

Chuck snorts and groans. “Oh my god.”

“Who's my favorite high-paid badass!”

Chuck huffs at her, but he's trying not to grin. He's moving sharp and quick again in her and it's really good. God, her life is awesome.

A thought occurs that makes her hum and press up against him, hot and smug and pleased. “Who's violating some kind of weird rich girl taboo,” she purrs. “Who has both the sexiest, sweetest, best pet and the hottest fucking bodyguard ever, in bed at the same time! God, I bet they'd be so jealous— _ahh!_ ”

Chuck rubs her nipple again, blue eyes sharp and amused on her face. “Because they’d want us,” he says, putting his hand down again for support as he leans over her, changing the angle, “but they can't—have us, me ‘n Mike, right? Only _you_ —can have us.”

Julie writhes under him. “ _Yes_ ,” she hisses.

“Doesn't matter how— _nnh_ —jealous they get,” he pants, “you don't— have to—share—unless you—feel like it.”

“And I don't!” she says, moving with him, breathing gone harsh. “I don't f-feel like it, you're _ah, mmh,_ mine!”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, grinding up into her so she moans shaky and unstrung. “We're yours.”

“All yours,” Mike agrees softly.

Julie whimpers, undone by their surrender and the unexpected satisfaction of that hunger in her, the need to utterly possess what she loves and have her ownership acknowledged. Her hand twines up into Chuck’s hair, falling loose around his face, and tugs, trying to urge him faster. Catching his breath sharply on a moan, Chuck cooperates, and Julie kind of loses track of things for a while.

When she comes back, Chuck is making beautiful hoarse noises, hips stuttering against her, a rush of wet heat in her before he goes still, heaving for breath. “God,” he says, slumped over her, and everyone lies still for a bit, breathing.

“Was that, um,” Julie tries to think. “Enough...?”

“No,” Chuck says, still breathless and cute, grinning at her. “That was terrible. You suck at sex. Mike, tell her she sucks at sex.”

“Julie’s great at sex,” Mike mumbles. 

Julie pats him approvingly.

“She’s _alright_ ,” Chuck sighs.

“Now can we _please_ go to sleep?” Mike asks plaintively.

Chuck pulls out of Julie and flops over between her and Mike while she gets out of bed to clean herself up. Sex is great, but the aftermath is annoyingly squishy.

When she turns around, Mike has snuggled into Chuck, who's nuzzling his messy brown hair.

“You were so sexy out there,” Chuck murmurs. “You were amazing, Mikey.”

Mike sleepily kisses Chuck’s collarbone. “Mm. They didn't even know what they were missin’, with you. You're really hot.”

“Mmm,” Julie agrees, lying down against Chuck. “We did give them a pretty good show, though, watching Chuck work you up like that. I was generous,” she adds haughtily, and Chuck smirks at her over his shoulder.

“Generous, yeah. If that one girl had set a fingertip out of line with Mike, you would've taken her head off.”

Julie flicks a reproving finger against the back of his shoulder and sniffs. “Well, he is my pet. It's my right.”

Mike lifts his head to see over Chuck, and for a moment she's afraid that might have crossed a line. He's not her pet, not for real, and maybe she shouldn't joke about it. Then he gives her a slow, sleepy smile, sweet and breathtaking.

“Like bein’ your pet,” he murmurs, putting his head back down. “‘S fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Julie closes her eyes and shivers, a little thrill going through her tired body. She didn’t exactly come that last time with Chuck, but at a certain point everything felt so good it didn't matter. When she was riding out a _near_ orgasm that lasted for at least ten minutes, she doesn't really care that the pleasure never quite peaked. She's... really done, really _well_ done, tender and half-melted and ridiculously in love with both these dorks.

“Yeah,” she says, breathless. “Maybe.” Her hand meets Mike’s over the sweaty stretch of Chuck’s back, and squeezes. He squeezes back, then his touch goes slack with sleep again.

Julie snickers softly. “Checking out early,” she murmurs. “What a loser. It's not like he even did anything much today.”

Chuck giggles. “Totally,” he whispers back. “Sitting around on a cushy pillow getting fed fancy treats—he's got no excuse.”

“Such a whiny baby,” Julie says.

“The whiniest fucking baby who ever had to have six orgasms at a crazy rich girl party,” Chuck says, shifting over onto his back. Mike snuggles closer with a sleepy little mumble and Chuck strokes his hair.

“Can't even take being shown off as main attraction of a sex show,” Julie agrees. “Why do we like him again?”

“Probably because he's pretty,” Chuck murmurs. “And that smile.”

“That's right, the smile,” Julie says, and yawns.

Chuck grins at her. “You, on the other hand, worked your ass off networking and charming and bluffing and scheming this evening. Your brain must be exhausted.”

“Mm, mm-hm,” Julie says, pulling the blankets up and nestling into his other side. “Definitely my brain that's worn out. Could totally… ‘unno, do a set of calisthenics right now, no problem. Rarin’ and ready to go.”

“Oh, so I've got _two_ whiny babies here,” Chuck murmurs. “Good to know.”

“Good thing we're pretty,” Julie mumbles. “And excellent in bed.”

Chuck makes a doubtful noise. “Well, Mike is, anyway,” he says, and Julie whaps him with the backs of her fingers. He snickers. “Well, I guess I can think of a _couple_ more reasons to put up with you guys.”

“Mmm, like what?”

Chuck bends his head closer and lowers his voice to breathe, “You put on an incredibly sexy show.”

“You weren't so bad yourself,” Julie says, smiling against his shoulder.

“Also I kinda like you both,” Chuck adds just as quietly, and Julie sleepily watches his cheeks go pink. “Even though you're a jerk.”

“Hmm,” Julie says, and kisses his shoulder. “I like you too,” she sighs. “Even though you're, like, offensively cute.”

Chuck opens his mouth, gamely trying for a retort, but he's blushing darker and he just makes a kind of quiet squeaking noise and turns his face away, hiding in Mike’s hair. He's more confident and self-possessed than he used to be, but it's still not hard to get to him.

“Only helping make my case,” Julie points out, closing her eyes.

“I kinda want to fuck Mike into the wall the next time he wakes up,” Chuck mutters. “That's not very cute.”

“Cute and sexy don' actually cancel out,” Julie mumbles. “Y’r both. So there.”

“Bet you he'll be up for it tomorrow,” Chuck says thoughtfully. “Bet you ten cred even after all this he wakes up with morning wood.”

Julie gives a tired snicker.

“I dunno how he survived before we hooked up,” Chuck goes on. “Probably all those showers—mmph.”

Julie keeps her hand over his mouth without opening her eyes. “You're very cute,” she says, “‘n I like you a lot, but ‘f you don't shut up right now ‘m kicking you out of bed.”

Chuck snorts. “Oh, I see how I rate,” he mutters when she pulls her hand away. “Naps are more important.”

“‘F you're that wired you c’n go catch up with Dutch ‘n Texas,” Julie says.

“Of course I'm wired,” Chuck says, stifling a giggle. “Get it, cuz I'm—”

“ _Chuck_ ,” she groans, and Mike shifts a little in his sleep. Chuck and Julie both go quiet for a moment until they're sure he's settled again. 

“Oh, fine,” Chuck says in a much lower voice. “Go on to sleep, you big baby.”

“Mmph,” she says, already sliding into the soft warm dark.

“You earned it,” Chuck whispers, stroking her arm. “You did really good tonight.”

“You too,” she mumbles, nuzzling his shoulder, and if he says anything in response she doesn't hear it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tonight we're going hard  
> Just like the world is ours  
> We're tearin' it apart  
> You know we're superstars, we are who we are  
> —Ke$ha, We R Who We R


End file.
